The Emperor's Talon
by AshenAngel2
Summary: Set during the Golden age of the Empire, young Dick Grayson was raised and trained as the Talon by the Court of Owls. In exchange for the rule of Gotham, the court gave Grayson to the Emperor as his personal assassin. On a minor mission, Richard finds an opportunity to run from the life that was chosen for him and into an outlaw Jedi turned vigilante.
1. Chapter 1: The Emperor's Talon

_**The Emperor's Talon**_

His window of opportunity to escape was closing fast. In a matter of seconds, the Storm Troopers would notice he was gone and come after him. He couldn't run fast enough. The ground was uneven. The air was painfully cold. Not even his elevated heart rate and the urgency of his flight were enough to keep him warm.

Even trained as he was, he stumbled clumsily in his haste. Every time he fell, he wasted precious seconds. And those seconds could make the difference between freedom and a lifetime of servitude and pain. So every time he fell, he picked himself up and ran. Ran because his life depended on it. He ran because many lives depended on it.

Richard Grayson was a Talon. The Emperor's Talon. He was an assassin; trained by the Court of Owls for one purpose. He was trained to kill. And he was good at killing. There was blood on his hands. Too much blood for too few years of life. He had seen blood when The Court killed him to make him a talon and now he saw blood everywhere. He could see blood in the moon hanging ominously low in the night sky. He saw blood coursing through the river; breaking on the banks or lapping at his legs as he ran through it. And he saw blood fueling the Imperial Starships and Tifighters. Blood of innocence.

He could not go back to those nights of blood. Could not go back to the Emperor to whom he had been given as a gift. That's what he was; less than an assassin. He was a slave. A mere pawn in a game of death.

Richard's lungs ached for air. His head was starting to spin, but still he ran. He force-jumped over a huge fallen tree that lay across his path. He supposed he should thank the Emperor and Darth Vader for teaching him how to use the force. It would help him now in his escape. He should thank The Court of Owls too for their hand in his training. He had the tools he needed to run. But would it be enough?

The night air of Alvorine was sharp and cold. As a Talon, Richard could not survive in cold temperatures. He simply could not maintain body heat. Already he felt himself becoming more sluggish by the second. His vision was starting to swim and he knew he couldn't keep running much longer. To buy himself a little time, Richard raced into the denser part of Alvorine's large forest. He would hide himself among the black fir trees. Staggering with exhaustion and cold, he tore through the underbrush.

A light flashed behind him. The whir of motors warned him of the approach of speeder bikes. "Here," called the muffled mechanical voice of a Storm Trooper, "I see footprints in the frost."

Richard froze. His heart was beating so fast and so loudly, he feared it would give him away.

"Where?" called another trooper.

"Here. See? They're so small, they must belong to the Emperor's little Talon."

Richard let his head fall back against a tree. It made a dull thud. That thud was too loud. He looked up into the dense branches of black firs. He hoped to catch one last look at that low hanging moon. He needed to see it one more time with the eyes of a free boy.

His heart pounded again. This time with regret. He was so close to freedom. He could taste the air of freedom he had so long craved to inhale. A tear rolled down his cheek. Fear and pain and cold racked his small frame. He could not go back to killing. To hiding in the shadows waiting to strike people he didn't even know.

His training was better than good, it was the best. He could hide himself even within the force. He had used that skill to hunt and kill Jedi who had somehow escaped Order 66. But was his training enough to save him tonight? Ordinarily, the Storm Troopers would be no match for him. He could take down a dozen without breaking a sweat. But tonight, it was different. Not only was he outnumbered, but he was outnumbered and weaponless. His weapons had trackers built in, so he was forced to leave them behind. But even weaponless, he might have a chance, except even nature was against him. He could not perform as well as he needed to in the cold. All he had at the moment were his skills and his wits.

The troopers' bikes were coming closer now. Desperately, Richard looked up again. This time not at the moon, but at the branches. Maybe he had just enough strength to travel through the treetops like the robins. If he could get to the edge of the forest, he just might be able to make it into Alvorine City. With renewed determination, he pulled himself up onto the first low branch. By traveling through the trees, he would leave no foot prints. Using the Force and his acrobatics, Richard leapt from branch to branch.

"The footprints end here," said a Storm Trooper below.

"Well, he can't have just vanished," said another. "Fan out and search the area. He can't have gotten far."

Richard stopped. He waited until they were out of sight before resuming his journey. The fear of being discovered was almost physically painful. His hands were shaking as much from desperate anticipation of being caught as they were from the cold.

He lost hold of one branch. He fell to another. It cracked under his weight. He froze again.

"In the trees!" cried a trooper. "The Talon must be in the trees." They opened fire on the branches above.

Richard barley kept his scream of pain and sheer mind-numbing terror from escaping his lips. A plaster bolt ripped through his left thigh and another through the branch on which he supported himself. The branch gave way and he fell hard on the frosty ground.

"There's The Talon!" shouted a trooper triumphantly.

Richard let out a screech like a wounded owl as the Storm Trooped surged towards him. He stood. His injured leg burned with the fire of all nine Correllian hells. But he forced himself to run. Run and not look back. Blaster bolts crackled through the air as they shot past him. One tore through his shoulder. He stumbled. But he picked himself up and ran.

The forest ended abruptly. Richard halted as he faced a four-story high wall separating him and Alvorine City. Sanctuary and a new forest within to hide was right in front of him. Tauntingly close, yet impossible to reach in his current state. Richard desperately pounded his good fist on the stone wall in a futile hope that it would yield to him and offer him sanctuary and rest. He heard the troopers coming up behind him. He heard them level their blasters.

"Turn around Talon and put your hands in the air," barked the inhuman voice of a Storm Trooper.

Richard gazed up at the top of the wall in despair as he raised his hands. He looked up at the moon and whispered a faint goodbye to freedom. His knees wanted to buckle under him. His heart wanted to give out. His lower lip wanted to tremble as he turned to face his captors, but he would not give them the satisfaction. Instead, he kept his gaze fierce and proud. He was an assassin. A slave. The Emperor's Talon. But more importantly, he was Richard Grayson; and Richard Grayson was not only proud and fearless but brave like the heroes and Jedi of a bygone age.

"Grab him," ordered a trooper.

Richard didn't flinch as they moved forward.

Suddenly, a huge black shape like a bat leapt into the air from the top of the wall. It spread a cape that looked like wings blocking the light of that bloody moon. It descended on the Storm Troopers and took them out one by one. Those that were not to injured to do so, turned and ran for their miserable lives. Then the figure turned to Richard.

The boy Talon wanted to take a step back. This figure was terrifying but he didn't. Instead he met its gaze with fierce eyes and proud chin. But his façade could last and Richard finally collapsed on the frozen inhospitable ground of Alvorine.

* * *

 **Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed this story. I thought about it one night in bed and wrote the whole thing in a few minutes. Please let me know how I did and if you would like this story to continue. Thanks for reading.**


	2. Chapter 2: The Child and the Myth

**_The Emperor's Talon_**

 **Chapter 2: The Child and the Myth**

The hooded figure in black turned his gaze away from the fleeing storm troopers towards the boy lying at his feet. His eyes narrowed suspiciously behind the mask. What was this child doing here and why were the troopers after him? No mere child should have been able to survive such a race against them for so long.

Examining the boy more closely, the figure discovered several serious injuries. This boy should be dead, but he wasn't. Then again, the kid wasn't completely alive either. There were strange pale blue markings on his neck and face. He was cold to the touch. His gold and black armor, reminiscent of an owl, was stained with blood.

Suddenly, the pieces started falling into place and realization dawned. The figure in black reeled back a pace. The facts hit him hard. This boy lying unconscious before him was the fabled Emperor's child Talon. Many people thought this child was just a myth. They considered the Talon nothing more than whispered rumor that had evolved into ghost stories children told each other on nights like this, when the moon was in her full and hanging low and red over the city.

Shortly after the rise of the Empire, people claimed to have seen a child, dressed in black armor, flying away into the night like an owl. And in its wake, was death. A quiet murder in the night of those who dared oppose Emperor Palpatine. They called it "the Talon" after other ghost stories about the Court of Owls. But there was never a shred of evidence to prove that the child Talon was real, and thus, the stories remained shrouded in doubt and legend.

But now, the figure in black knew for certain that these stories were no myth. Here was the child lying on the hard, cold ground at his feet. He was real. His crimes were real. This boy should die. He should not be allowed to commit murder on behalf of an evil empire anymore. Gotham, the capital of Alvorine, was his city, the Batman's city. And he would not allow anyone to bring the Emperor's death to his city.

He should kill this murderous Talon where it lay. It was half dead already. When one more death served so many lives, the price was worth it. How could he allow such a one as this loose in his city to murder at will on the orders of a mad tyrant?

The Batman took another step back. He drew a knife from his belt. He steadied his grip on the handle. He raised the sharp dagger aloft as he moved closer and poised himself to strike. Once he ran the gleaming white blade through the Talon's heart, it would all be over.

Or would it?

The Talon, no the child, moved slightly. Batman kneeled beside the boy and looked hard at his face. Asleep, he looked so young and innocent; venerable even. Aside from the blue markings on his skin, he looked like any other ordinary child. His raven bangs were damp against his forehead. His eyelashes lay flat against his cheeks which were feverishly red in contrast to his white skin. Most likely from the cold.

For a moment, Batman believed that he must be mistaken. How could this child be a legendary killer? He reminded himself of all the stories. Of all the deaths this Child Talon had wrought in the service of an evil master. But perhaps that was what stayed his hand. When he looked into the face of the myth and saw a mere boy, he realized that the Talon was a shaped weapon fashioned from a living being.

Even as he tried to rekindle his earlier resolve to fulfill his silent promise and save the galaxy from the Talon, Batman let the knife slip between his fingers and fall into the frosty dirt beside the boy. Killing this child served no real purpose. The Emperor would surely send another to do his dirty work should the Talon fail. Vader or the Inquisitors came to mind. All Batman would accomplish by killing the boy would be the breaking of his own moral code.

"Idiot!" he cursed himself.

Hands shaking form his brush with the Dark Side, Batman brushed pine needles and dirt from the boy's unruly hair. Now that he had resolved not to kill the kid, he needed to decide what to do with him. He couldn't just leave the boy here on the ground. That would be tantamount to letting an assassin loose in his city. Child or not, this boy was dangerous. He considered bringing the boy to the jail where he would be kept in juvenile detention, but he was injured and, in all likely hood, a master escape artist.

Without another clear option, Batman lifted the boy into his arms. He was lightweight and easy to carry. Batman tucked him safely to his chest and attached his grappling gun to the top of the wall. From there, he soared out into the frozen night over Gotham City.

* * *

 **Thanks for Reading. I hope you are enjoying the story.**


	3. Chapter 3: Once

**The Emperor's Talon**

 **Chapter 3: Once**

The Batman lay the child on the medical table in the Batcave. He began moving swiftly to secure the boy to the table. However small and injured he seemed to be, the Batman was no fool. His previous reservations about the Talon were true; this child was dangerous. Only once he was confident that the Talon could not escape, did he begin to examine the boy's physical health.

The secret elevator chimed. "Sir, when were you going to…" a voice began, but interrupted itself, "my word Master Bruce! Who is that child?"

"He is the Emperor's Talon," Batman stated without emotion. He did not look up to address his life long friend and father figure. He did not pause in his examination. He did not remove the terrifying cowl that hid his face.

The voice, Alfred, moved forward to stand over the boy as well. "You're telling me this is the child from the stories?" he asked.

"Yes."

"He is very small. How could a child like this be an inter-galactic assassin? There has to be some mistake!"

"There's not."

"But sir…"

"Look at his armor and weapons. No ordinary child is so armed. He's dangerous."

"People would have said the same of you once."

"Times were different," said Batman. His voice became even lower; a growl of anger mixed sorrow. Alfred didn't respond. Times were different indeed. Once there were heroes and Jedi. Now there were agents and martyrs. Once there was freedom. Now there was oppression. Once there was light. Now there was only darkness. Once Batman was Jedi Padawan Bruce Wayne. Now Padawan Bruce Wayne was the Batman.

Alfred looked sorrowfully at the retreating figure of the Batman. Then he looked compassionate down at the child bound securely to the table. He wanted to help them both. He wanted to save them both. But was it possible? He didn't know.

"Tend to him. I'll be back," said the low voice of Batman from the shadows.

"Yes sir."

"And Alfred, don't get attached. He's dangerous."

"So you've told me," said Alfred dryly. He began to finish what Batman had started. As he did so, he noticed the shining sliver vein-like markings on the child's now bare skin and the low body temperature. The cuts and bruises began to disappear on their own. This child was healing himself. But still unconscious. On a sudden hunch, Alfred grabbed a blanket and wrapped it as securely around the boy as he could. He stroked the raven hair and seated himself in the chair beside the boy.

 _Don't get attached._ The Jedi used to believe that. But Alfred thought it was rather irrelevant now that they were all dead. Maybe the rule made sense. Once. Once he had been a Jedi Healer (until he left the Order before the breakout of the Clone Wars). But now? Now he cared for the former apprentice of his best friend in a cave under a mansion. This wasn't the temple. They weren't Jedi. Not Anymore. And he would get attached to as many people as he liked. The force was telling him that this boy was going to be connected to them somehow in the future. Alfred wished he knew how.

* * *

Richard's eyes flew open. They flashed from predatory amber to sea blue in quick succession. He blinked under the harsh white light baring down on him from overhead. He tried to sit up but couldn't. He was strapped down securely to a table. He tried to break his bonds, but they held fast.

He knew he had been captured again. But he didn't know by whom. Had he been returned to the Emperor on Couracant? Was he on Mustafar with Darth Vader? Had he been returned the Court of Owls for further experimentation? In his short life, he had seen so much. He could hardly bare to look up into any more harsh lights. He couldn't bare any more probing needles. Couldn't endure being torn apart again and again to be rebuilt as a weapon.

Richard let out a scream as he tried again to free himself. He wanted to cry. He had been so close to the freedom he so desperately wanted. And for a moment, he had had it. But it was just a taste. A cruel game the universe played with him. He had been allowed to see an escape from his life as a weapon in the hands of evil only to be reminded that he could never be free.

Suddenly, a gentle hand fell onto his shoulder. Richard stopped moving and listened. Then a face came into view; peering down at him silhouetted against the blinding light. The face was that of an old man, as far as Richard could tell. A kindly old man who was different than the Emperor or any of his masters in every way.

"Relax please young sir," said the kindly old man.

Richard tensed but remained still. It was better to cooperate until he could escape again.

"My name is Alfred Pennyworth. I should like to know yours if you please."

"I'm the Talon," answered Richard. It was the only answer is masters would accept and he had learned to play their games. To pretend to be torn apart and remade. If they knew how much of himself he had managed to retain through all their tortures, they would only begin again.

"But that is not your name," said Alfred, "I am a butler, but I have a name."

"You want my real name?" asked Richard suspiciously.

"If you please sir. I refuse to call you 'The Talon'."

"My name is Richard. Richard Grayson." He figured he would regret having answered truthfully. But just for once, he wanted to say his name. His own name. He wanted someone to know who he really was. And this Alfred seemed like the person to tell.

"I am please to make your acquaintance Master Richard."

Richard said nothing.

"Something troubles you?"

Nothing.

"I can only provide answers to questions you ask."

Someone wanted him to ask questions? Someone wanted him to talk? What kind of person was this Alfred? His masters wanted him to obey silently. The ordinary people he met were terrified of him. But Alfred was neither. Richard decided to risk asking the obvious question. "Where am I?"

"You are in the medical wing of the Batcave."

"Are you going to torture me or are you going to experiment on me?"

Alfred looked genuinely appalled by the question. "Neither I can assure you."

Richard did not sense that this was a lie so he let himself relax marginally. He closed his eyes against the light overhead. "Then why am a strapped down?"

Alfred sighed. "Because you commit crimes on behalf of the Emperor. We cannot allow you to escape from here and continue down that path."

Richard swallowed. He didn't ask anything more. Just once, he wished there was someone on _his_ side.


	4. Chapter 4: Of Assassins and Hypocrites

**The Emperor's Talon**

 **Chapter 4:** ** _Of Assassins and Hypocrites_**

Batman went out for the second time that night. His investigation of past Talon murders showed some obvious connection between victims, for example every one of them had gotten in the way of either Emperor Palpatine or the Court of Owls, but it was hardly enough information for him to calculate who the Talon was after in Gotham. Deciding not to wait until the morning news showed pictures of a dead body, Batman donned the cowl again. He left the Talon, or Richard as Alfred insisted on calling him, in a cell down in the Batcave.

Flying over the streets of his city from the end of his grappling line, he scanned for anything out of the ordinary. There wasn't much. It was past curfew for law abiding citizens, so only the imperial troops, criminals, and hobos were out on the streets. In another hour it would be dawn, and he could no longer cloak himself in darkness. He'd have to hurry.

The former Jedi Knight part of Bruce Wayne's brain often considered the irony of his current night life habits. He had fought the dark side of the Force for years; he had killed many beings in a war to destroy it. Yet now here he was, using the darkness to hide himself and refusing to take a single life either in the service of light or dark. He had always thought the Jedi were good. But Jedi killed, they were as much warriors as they were peace keepers. Bruce had turned his back on that kind of peace when the Empire rose. So many had died in the Clone Wars. And as far as he was concerned, it had all been for nothing. Nothing.

Maybe, he pondered, it was hypocritical for him to be so hard on Richard for being raised as the Talon. The boy had been raised as a weapon, trained for one purpose and one purpose only; to deal out death and fulfill the wishes of the Empire. Jedi Padawans weren't so different; at least, he didn't think his role had been that different. He was raised as a weapon for the republic. And he had killed in the name of the republic. Both were wrong. Raising children as weapons was wrong. (Though, if he had to choose a side, he'd still choose the Jedi. At least they had some moral code.)

Deciding that considering larger questions of morality while he was on a mission could be detrimental to his health, Batman refocused on his goal. That was when he heard one of the Storm Troopers below him mention the Talon. Batman paused on the rooftop above and listened to their conversation.

"You idiots! How could you let the Talon get away? The Emperor will have our heads," said the captain.

"He's faster and smarter than we give him credit for. Besides, we were told that the climate was too cold for him to withstand for long," said one of the others. Batman recognized the dent his baterang had made in the trooper's helmet.

"We would have had him if the Dark Knight hadn't shown up."

"The Dark Knight," scoffed the Captain, "he should be dead. He would be too if you hadn't fouled up this assignment."

 _Now what did that mean?_ Batman wondered. As he considered it, he became aware of two things simultaneously. The first being that the Talon had been sent to Gotham to kill _him._ And the second being a low buzzing noise by his ear. Turning his head slightly to the right, he saw a small surveillance droid. He punched it reflexively and it fell to the rooftop with a loud clunk.

Aware that his cover had been blown, Batman rose to his full and impressive height. The Storm Troopers looked up at him. "Open fire!" commanded the captain.

Flame red blaster bolts shot past the Dark Knight. It was times like these that Bruce really missed his lightsaber, but carrying one now was out of the question. So instead, Batman dodged the bolts by twisting and turning his body just out of range. Then he force-leapt into the air above his attackers. His cape spread behind him like majestic black wings of fury as he descended among the troopers.

They continued to fire at him in close quarters. However, Batman's superior combat skills and subtle hints from the Force were more than a match for the troopers and their guns. He would have taken them all down with snarls of vengeance, had it not been for the second surveillance droid with an energy net. The droid dropped the net over Batman's head. The few seconds it took for him to rip himself free were enough of an opening for the troopers to subdue him with stun shots.

"Looks like we got The Bat after all," commented the captain. He knelt before the Dark Knight bound before him. "Perhaps that Talon didn't make his kill. But the Emperor's mission will be completed." The captain stood and took a few steps back. To his troopers, he ordered, "terminate him."

Batman stared unflinchingly into the barrels of the blasters now pointed at his face. One little slip up. That's all it took sometimes. He felt rather stupid for getting caught like this, but he'd meet his end with dignity. But it never came.

"What in the Galaxy?!" cried one of the troopers. A sleek silver knife had just carved straight through the blaster in his hand. Another was now imbedded in the helmet of the trooper beside him.

"It's the Talon!" screamed the Captain. "Grab him! Finish the Batman!"

Batman's eyes tracked the small lethal shadow that danced gracefully between the troopers. The long white knives in it's hands gleamed in the low red moonlight. Bruce was on his feet again. Although his arms were bound behind his back, he fought with his feet. He didn't know how the Talon had escaped or who's side he was on, but that didn't matter. All that mattered right now was that the Talon had interrupted his execution.

For a moment he locked eyes with the Talon as the boy raised his head. The eyes went from predatory amber to blue for a split second. Batman found himself bewildered by the moment. He was mesmerized by the fluid movements of the child assassin as the knives flashed with precision but also with the flourish of a performer. And then the boy was turning several summersaults over Bruce's head; bringing a knife down through the electro binders that held the Dark Knight's hands captive.

 _So_ , thought Batman, _the Talon is on my side for the moment_. He decided to take advantage of that. One of the troopers tried to shoot him in the back of the head, but the Talon was there first. The sleek knife flew through the trooper's visor and he fell.

"No killing!" Batman found himself shouting at the Talon. He didn't know why, but he did. Maybe he was desperate not to have more blood spilled on his streets or maybe he saw something redeemable about this living weapon after all.

The boy cocked his head at him. Bruce wondered if the Talon was going to attack him next. But instead, he was surprised that the boy dropped the knives and grabbed two escrima sticks instead. And then their dance began in earnest. Batman and the Talon worked together to take down the Storm Troopers. It was over almost as soon as it started.

As they stood breathing in the middle of the unconscious troopers, Batman turned to the Talon. "Come," he said simply. It was a command.

"Why?" asked the boy defiantly. He looked up at Batman with suspicious eyes.

"Because we need to talk."

"You mean, you need to lock me up again."

Batman paused. "That depends."

"On what?" asked the Talon. He looked curious, defensive, dangerous, childish, and hopeful all at once.

"On whether or not you harmed my friend in your escape," answered Batman." Now come. More troopers will be along any moment and the sun is rising." And so it was. Putting his trepidation aside, the boy followed him along the rooftops back to the batcave.

When they arrived, Alfred was waiting for them with a plate of fresh cookies. "Was your second mission successful sir?" asked the butler. He looked completely unfazed by the Talon standing beside Batman free from his cage. Bruce was flabbergasted.

"Alfred, did you let him go?" demanded Batman. It was both a challenge and a question.

'I did indeed sir," answered Alfred as calmly as if Bruce had just asked if he had put the kettle on for tea. Unbelievable. "I hacked the city surveillance droids and saw you were in trouble. Master Richards seamed eager to thank you for saving him from them earlier, even if you did lock him up, so I decided to let him go."

Bruce just gawked at the man dumbfounded. His eyes shot form Alfred to the boy and back again. "You let him go?!" he repeated.

"As I said before, yes."

"Why? He could have killed you!"

"Oh I was hardly afraid of that, sir," said Alfred setting the plate of cookies aside. "The Force showed me that he is to become a part of our lives. I merely decided to have faith in the Force and take a risk. And considering the results, I'd say it turned out rather well."

Bruce was on the edge of screaming at the old man who seemed very unconcerned that he had just let an assassin loose on the streets of Gotham. "He's dangerous!"

"So are you," Alfred pointed out.

"I'm standing right here," Richard interrupted. A little sass crept into his voice. His eyes were no longer amber, but a bright ocean blue. The silver markings had faded from his face and his cheeks were flushed with color. Bruce was taken aback by how different the boy looked now that he had warmed up. He wasn't the Talon all the time apparently.

Alfred noticed the look on his Master's face. He smiled a little. "I had faith. His name is Richard Grayson. And he's as much a child as a weapon."


	5. Chapter 5: Fly in Light, Hide in Darknes

**The Emperor's Talon**

 **Chapter 5:** ** _They Fly in Light and Hide in Darkness_**

Richard looked from Batman to Alfred. He felt as though they were arguing over his fate while simultaneously ignoring his presence. He had been in that situation many times before; once when the Court of Owls negotiated handing him over to Emperor Palpatine and many times again when the Emperor and Darth Vader decided what his next missions would be or how else to break him. Richard knew he was a weapon. He knew people used him to do their dirty work. But he had some semblance of pride left. He was not so submissive and broken in as some people believed.

So he spoke up. Because Batman and Alfred weren't his masters. "I'm standing right here," he pointed out. He was being cheeky. But he was also hurt to hear how much Batman still thought of him as nothing more than a dangerous weapon after he had just saved his life. Richard had chosen not to kill the troopers at Batman's request to prove to him that he wasn't the nightmare of legends. He was much more than that. Batman turned back to him as if he had just realized that Richard was still standing there. The Talon wouldn't have folded his arms over his chest like an unimpressed child, but Richard did it anyways.

The unspoken question hanging in the air was _so what happens now?_

Alfred broke the silence. "Sirs. May I suggest that you retire and get some much-needed rest? It's late or rather extremely early and you have been out all night getting shot, hunted, and who knows what else. I believe Master Richard should spend the night here, with your permission." He turned to Batman who nodded once.

"Very well Alfred," said Batman. Turning to Richard he added, "you will stay here in the cave. You may rest in the cot in the med-bay if you're tired or you may train on the equipment. You may not leave the cave or use the computers. I'll know instantly if you do. Am I understood?"

Richard fought the urge to role his eyes at Batman and point out that he could leave whenever he wanted to because, after all, he was trained by the best in the art of stealth. However, the Talon part of his brain answered instead as he had conditioned himself. "Yes sir."

"Good. I'll be back soon. And we shall continue to discuss your future."

Richard flinched. In Gotham, Batman was law. He was the unquestioned dictator. Just like the Emperor was the law of the Empire and Darth Vader was the master of the Talon. The Court of Owls had been the governor of Richard's childhood. They all tried to lord over him. But what was Richard the ruler of if not his own fate?

Richard didn't say anything as he watched Batman retreat up the stairs. _I'm free now_ he thought; _no one can hold me back. I will be what I chose to be, with not even the Force as master of my fate. Richard Grayson will fly again_.

He made this silent vow knowing that if the Emperor or Dart Vader knew about it, they would return to their prosses of tearing him apart because they had seen he had not broken to their will yet. Other beings they would simply execute and replace with someone willing to do everything requested of them. But Richard had died once already. And then many times again in spirit. So, they didn't kill him like the others. Instead, they tried again and again to break him.

Every time they broke him, Richard lost a little piece of himself. It was the fear of losing himself completely that had driven him to escape. What light inside him that survived started to dwindle. The pieces of him that made him Richard Grayson shattered one by one. Yes, only pieces of him survived the trials intended to bread him. But every time they broke his spirit or killed the light inside him, some of it was reborn. Those pieces, the ones that emerged like a phoenix from the fire, made Richard everything he was. More than a weapon. More than a soldier. More than a boy. He was hope.

Because it took hope not to lose himself to pain. It took hope to hide that he hadn't broken. It took hope to run away. And it took hope to start a new life; to believe that he could be something other than what life had set out for him. Richard understood better than anyone that we are what we choose to be; not the role the past says we should play.

So after Batman left, he dropped the knives and his armor on the floor. It made a satisfying clattering noise that echoed through the cave. The Talon was dead. Batman may not believe it. No one may ever believe it (except maybe Alfred) but that didn't matter to Richard. Because he had chosen this. His last kill to escape from the life that was chosen for him was to murder the Talon that had consumed Richard Grayson.

* * *

Upstairs in the house, Alfred got Bruce Wayne ready for another day in Gotham's bustling business district. For a former Jedi Knight sworn renounce possessions, Bruce had certainly risen swiftly up the corporate ladder thanks to his father's company. Most former Jedi were either dead or in seclusion. But Bruce had chosen to hide in plain sight. Brilliant really.

Right now, they were having a heated debate on the future of the boy Talon down in the Batcave. Alfred cleared the plates from the table while looking Bruce directly in the eye.

"Sir, the boy needs guidance not a cage," he insisted.

"I gave him the run of the _Batcave!_ What more do you want from me?" demanded Bruce.

Alfred didn't flinch or back down from the tone of voice that addressed him. "Look to the Force to guide you as you once did. There is more to the Force than moving things with your mind or guiding your strikes in battle."

"Look to the Force," spat Bruce. "The Force didn't tell me that my Master would did before my eyes on Felucia. The Force couldn't stop the pain when I lost him. The Force didn't help me save the parents of that little boy on Tyth. He and I watched together as General Grievous threw them out of the refuge's ship. We watched them fall to their deaths; murdered when they were so close to salvation. Where was the Force in all of that? WHERE!"

The old man looked a hundred years older in a second. "I'm sure I can't answer that sir. But I might be forgiven for pointing out that, even after the Clone Wars and Order 66, you chose to follow the light. You hide within the shadows as the Dark Knight, but the dark side hasn't consumed you. Yet." Alfred turned away then. "I fear perhaps some-day it will. That you will let it."

Somehow Bruce didn't think _I am vengeance. I am the night. I am Batman_. was the best response. No, he was going to have this conversation whether he liked it or not. He was teetering on the edge of the dark side and he knew it. He had known it for a while now. Sometimes it scared him. Sometimes he embraced it. But, "what does that have to do with the boy?"

"It has to do with the boy because Richard was trained as a child assassin. He was raised in the ways of the dark side, yet he fights it with more vigor and hope than many Jedi I have known. You could teach him how to be a hero rather than a weapon and he can teach you to see the light. To hope," answered Alfred.

"I'm late for work. See you tonight Alfred."

"Have a nice day sir."

* * *

Batman towered over the boy. He had finally convinced himself that there was a certain "problem" down in his cave that needed to be resolved ASAP. He couldn't believe what he was preparing to do. Neither could he quite make himself believe that the boy had remained put as instructed and hadn't tampered with the computers. Leaving the kid in the Batcave alone had been a test. He was surprised the boy had passed.

"Where is your armor?" he demanded.

Richard cocked his head like a bird. Batman could almost see the cogs of his mind turning and calculating in those deep ocean eyes. "That was the armor of the Talon. I am not the Talon."

"Then what are you?"

The boy seemed to think for a moment. "I haven't decided yet. Mostly I'm Richard, the last Flying Grayson."

Batman tried not to flinch upon hearing the name Flying Graysons, because they fell. He watched them fall. And afterwards he held a screaming five-year-old in his arms. "So, you're just Richard," he said aloud.

"My parents called me Dick. No one has called me that in a long time. Perhaps that's who I should be. Dick Grayson was happy. I want to be happy."

"Dick? Thant's unfortunate." Bruce couldn't resist. It wasn't the sophisticated of names.

Richard or rather Dick cocked his head again. "So is getting caught in an energy net and almost getting executed by dim-witted Storm Troopers."

Alfred almost snorted a laugh. It came out as a strangled cough. Batman turned his head to look at the old man, who was doing an Oscar worthy performance of hiding his smile. Never the less, amusement radiated off him through the Force that was much harder to suppress.

"Well Dick Grayson, let us begin your training. If you are going to leave this cave, I will teach you how to fight without being a killer. I will teach you to be a hero or the people and a thorn of the Empire. Now, take your beginning position," instructed Batman.

Dick took up a defensive position on the mats and they began to spar.


	6. Chapter 6: The Art of Starting Over

**The Emperor's Talon**

 **Chapter 6: The Art of Starting Over**

 _I have the courage to change. The strength to see it through. And the faith that I can do it._

"Get up," ordered Batman.

For the seventh time, Richard pushed himself back to his feet. He stood as tall, ready, and wary as he had when they had begun the sparring match thirty minutes ago. He would not show weakness. He would not show exhaustion. He could not. The only person who could ever make him stay down was himself. So he braced himself for Batman's next attack.

Batman rushed him. The man's fist thrust towards his head in a punch that would have, if Richard had been any slower, knocked him unconscious. Like his other trainers, Batman barely held himself back. But that hardly phased the former Talon. Richard leapt into the air and executed a double flip over Batman's head with the aid of the Force. The move was unnecessarily flashy, but Richard liked to show off when he could. He feigned a roundhouse kick aimed at Batman's side before dropping low and sweeping the Dark Knight off his feet.

A thud accompanied Batman's connection with the mats. "Not too bad Tal…Dick," The Dark Knight commented gruffly, "but, don't get used to dropping me like that."

"Of course not," said Richard. There wasn't a hint of either smugness or a satisfied smile on his face, but Batman still felt like the boy was mocking him somehow.

"Good." Batman rose and towered over the boy once more. He spun around on the mats and made his way towards the Batcomputer. He motioned for Richard to follow him. Taking a stack of books, he handed them to the boy. "Read these," he instructed.

"Yes sir," said Richard (or in a way, the Talon answered for him). He made a face. Reading. Great.

Batman ignored the slightly disgusted loon Richard's face. "I noticed you have the ability to access the Force and have been trained in the ways of the Dark Side. I expect you to read these books and adjust your meditation and practical application of the Force accordingly. You will not leave this cave until your training is complete."

"Understood, sir." Once again, his Talon training kicked in and answered for him. Richard's eyes lost their spark of liveliness as he stared up at Batman. More training. More rules. More captivity. He was beginning to fear that Batman was just like The Court and the Emperor and Darth Vader.

For his part, Batman saw the light extinguish from the boy's eyes. He had said something wrong somehow. Normally, he would attribute the look to one similar to those other children wore when told they had to do their homework. However, the Force and his instincts as a detective told him this was far from the case. Richard, after all, was not an ordinary child. He could hear Alfred's voice in his head telling him to trust his instincts and attempt to connect with Richard like he would a Padawan. He growled internally at the thought. The old butler and former Jedi master was almost always right. Damn Alfred!

Decidedly uncomfortable and internally cursing Alfred, the Force, and himself, Batman sat down in the comfortable computer chair. He continued to look at the boy before him wondering what he could say to begin to make a connection with Richard. Because the Alfred in his head was telling him to.

"Who trained you in the Dark Side?" he asked. Batman mentally kicked himself. That was an interrogational question; not a conversational question. Never the less, he waited for an answer.

Richard cocked his head. Batman felt as if those blue eyes were penetrating his soul and searching for his intention behind the question. Those eyes were too calculating and intelligent to belong to a child. Batman was tempted to stand up and walk away when Richard finally answered the question. "Darth Vader trained me."

Despite his best efforts, Batman shivered slightly with disgust upon hearing the name. Hate and fury for the tormentors of the galaxy boiled inside his chest. He couldn't look at Richard for a moment as his previous feelings of hatred for the Talon were rekindled.

As if reading his mind, Richard interjected quietly, "it wasn't my choice. No one asked me what I wanted to be."

Batman calmed himself. Somehow the boy's sincere voice grounded him in a manner similar to Alfred's. "I know," he said. And then he was attacked by a wave of guilt. Because he would have killed this boy once. Because he had hated this boy once. And because he hadn't saved his from the Court of Owls when he had the chance. "You ran away," he stated, more to ground himself in reality again.

"Yes."

"That took courage."

"Not really," said Richard, "most beings in the galaxy would risk everything to change their future if they were headed down a bad enough path."

"Not enough would, I'm afraid."

"Then they would rick everything not to be tortured by every waking moment."

"Some would just give up and die," Batman pointed out; reliably pessimistic as always.

Richard gave him that look again. "Darth Vader used to tell me that we are given the lives we have because we are strong enough to live them. It may be the only thing he was ever right about," said Richard looking down at his hands. He looked so small and childish right then.

"The Sith aren't really known for their wisdom," Batman agreed, his voice laced with venom.

"No. No they aren't," said Richard looking up again. Determination glittered in his eyes. "But being the Talon taught me this at least; hope is the only thing stronger than fear. It's not always about what you can do, it's about doing the things you think you can't."

"What did you think you couldn't do?"

"I thought I couldn't hold on to the good things inside me. I thought I couldn't run. I thought I couldn't be free. Then I did. Now I am." He paused. Batman didn't say anything, so he asked, "what do you think you can't do?"

Batman was taken aback. He was used to asking questions, not answering them. Especially questions of this nature. "I'm Batman," he decided, "I can do anything."

Richard cocked his head. He looked bemused in a way that the Dark Knight couldn't comprehend. "Then you're one of the arrogant ones who will end up in a body cast."

Flabbergasted by the boy's honest and not entirely incorrect sentiment, Batman cast his eyes around the cave for any signs of Alfred. The old butler would have loved that particular observation of Richard's immensely. He found himself suddenly afraid that Alfred and Richard would get along splendidly. The two of them ganging up on his brooding and bravado practices might prove too much to handle.

"Now that you're free, what do you want to be?" Batman asked.

"A good person."

Batman found himself rather impressed. "You may turn out alright, Dick," he decided aloud.

Batman stared hard at the boy standing in front of him. "I'm going to train you harder than anyone before me. I'm not just going to train you to fight. I'm going to train you to be a hero. Being a hero is harder than being a king or an emperor or being anything else you can think of; because being a hero is about sacrificing yourself for a greater good. It's about having the courage to stand up and tell evil to go back to hell, knowing there's a chance you'll go with it."

"Quite the inspirational speech for a child, sir," commented Alfred dryly as he rejoined them. He handed Batman and Dick each a towel. "May I suggest you cleanse yourselves of the fine odor that tends to accompany a hard workout? There will be plenty of time for speeches later."

"Of course, Alfred," said Batman striding away towards the showers. Then he paused mid step and turned back to Richard, "welcome to the Batcave, Dick Grayson."

"Thank you, sir," said Richard with a slight bow.

Alfred smiled. If he was right, and he almost always was, Dick and Bruce were going to get along just fine. Although Bruce was planning for Richard to stay confined to the cave only until he was fully de-programed as an assassin, Alfred was certain that the boy would worm his way into even Batman's heart of stone. Richard wouldn't leave the cave to wander the galaxy alone when his training was done. He and Bruce would become a team. An unstoppable team. The Dynamic Duo.

Later that night, Richard set aside the book on Force meditations centered in the light and gazed around the Batcave. Alfred, Force bless him, had set up a comfortable bed for him and set up a virtual bedroom in one of the cave's many alcoves. It was homey unlike the sterile and emotionless living quarters the Court and the Empire provided. He yawned and climbed into bed.

Batman had told him he would live in the cave until his training was done. He sighed. It was clear that Batman didn't trust him. But then, no one did, so he didn't feel the right to be surprised. Alfred might one day trust him. Maybe the man already did. Once his training was done, he was free to roam the galaxy as his heart desired. He realized that he would miss the old man. There wasn't anything for him out in the galaxy anyways. His home and everything he knew had been destroyed during the Clone Wars. The empire had banned traveling performers so even Haley's Circus had been shut down. For the first time, he was afraid of his freedom because soon he would have no where to go.


	7. Chapter 7: Three Months Later

**The Emperor's Talon**

 **Chapter 7: Three Months Later**

The Batmobile came to a screeching halt in the middle of the cave. Its sleek black frame reflected the lights as they blinked on. The canopy door of the driver's side popped up and out stepped the Batman with a flourish of his cape. He swept up the stairs like a thunderstorm before bracing himself against that back of the computer chair; not trusting his legs to hold his weight. His fingers shook with barely controlled rage and fear.

Behind him, Richard bounded up the stairs. His small frame radiated excitement tainted by dread. He had long since discarded his armor and weapons as the Talon, but he could still sense Batman's distrust of him. Over the three months he'd been in Gotham, Richard had learned that Batman didn't trust anyone. That, he supposed, was something they had in common. Or rather, that they only truly could say they trusted Alfred.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Batman whirled on him. To his credit, Richard held his ground as the Batman glared down at him. Most beings in the galaxy would have at least flinched if they didn't trip over their own feet trying to back away from the Bat's horrible visage. However, few things really terrified a boy who had been kidnapped by the Court of Owls as a five-year-old and handed over to Darth Vader at nine.

"What were you thinking?" shouted Batman. His voice was like thunder and crackled with power in the Force. He was so close to the Dark Side, that Richard almost flinched. Almost. The Dark Side to him, after all, was noting really new.

"I think I was saving your rather high and mighty ass," answered Richard, "for the second time since we met, I might add."

Batman actually paused. He blinked. Had someone really just said that to him? Richard was indeed full of surprises. It appeared that the overly polite, quiet, and subservient boy was beginning to fade away. And in it's place, leaving an unbridled child testing the limits of his freedom. "What did you just say to me?" he growled.

Richard cocked his head. Apparently not all his traits as the Talon had fully disintegrated, but then, years of training and habits could not be broken in a mere few months. "Am I to assume you didn't hear me?"

"You know the rules. You do not leave the cave for any reason whatsoever unless given express permission by either Alfred or myself."

"So, you would rather have been captured and dragged before the Emperor. Duly noted for future refence," said Richard. Somehow he managed to keep a straight face and minimalize the sarcasm in his voice.

"This isn't a game, Richard," growled Batman, "the Empire is not to be trifled with. Neither is the Dark Side of the Force."

Richard's calm aura suddenly snapped. His eyes flashed amber. "You think I don't know that?" he shouted.

Batman was again taken aback. This was what he had been afraid of. He had quickly learned that the boy's eyes were naturally deep blue but shone bright gold whenever his instincts as the Talon or the Dark Side kicked in. "What if you had slipped up and reverted to your former ways as the Talon? You could have put everything you've been working towards the last few months in jeopardy. You need more training and discipline. You're not ready for the field yet!"

"Hypocrite!"

"Excuse me?!"

"You're on the edge of the Dark Side right now," Richard pointed out, "I can feel you. You're angry and terrified. Or more accurately, you're so terrified that you've become angry. Tell me, what did your Jedi masters teach you about controlling your emotions?"

Batman was flabbergasted, and not for the first time that night. Firstly because, this child was talking with the wisdom of a Jedi knight. This boy, who had been trained in the Dark Side and raised as an assassin, was scolding Batman (former Jedi knight, the protector of Gotham) like a youngling. Secondly, he was astounded at the amount of knowledge the boy possessed. Batman was quite certain he had never told the boy that he had once been a Jedi Knight. And he knew Alfred would not have betrayed his secret.

For the first time since they met, Batman removed his cowl so that Richard could see his eyes. "How do you know all of this? Did you hack my computers and cover your tracks?"

"You're the detective," said Richard, "did I?"

"No." Batman would have seen it. He would have known. Unfortunately, the alternative was no more comforting. "You pieced the truth together yourself, didn't you?"

"You knew so much about the Force and you have a mastery of it that no sentient could have without training. Granted, there are many beings throughout the galaxy with a strong connection to the Force but no association with the Jedi. But I know one when I meet one," Richard stared straight into Batman's eyes, "and I do know the Dark Side when I feel it."

Batman decided that a change in subject was long overdue. "Do you realize how dangerous it was for you to come after me tonight? The Empire is still searching for the Talon. What if you were caught trying to save me?"

For the first time that night, Batman actually saw a flicker of fear in Richard's eyes. "I know. I don't think I'll ever forget." His voice had softened into a neutral monotone and his sentences had become clipped. The slave-like mindset of the Talon crept over him. Batman could see the change instantly.

"Richard…Dick, you need to stay in the cave until the Emperor's troops stop looking for you," said Batman. He had calmed down himself. He had a strange urge to pull the boy before him into a hug. And what was that? Batman doesn't hug anyone. That was perhaps one of the most terrifying revelations of the night; that he, the Force-damn Batman, had started feeling a connection to this child, the former Talon. Alfred had been right about one thing, Richard was destined to be a part of his life.

"Maybe it's time you came upstairs, Dick," said Batman thoughtfully.

"Upstairs?"

"To the house," he explained. "Come."

Richard followed Batman up the long light of stone stairs into the house above he had never been permitted to see.

* * *

 **Couracant: The Imperial Palace**

"Lord Vader, have your troops recovered our missing Talon on Avolrion?" asked Emperor Palpatine. He spun his large black chair to face his apprentice.

Darth Vader knelt, subservient to his master like any slave. "No, my Master. Gotham is a vast crime ridden city. I fear the troops we sent are too incompetent and too few. Sources tell me that the Batman is still on the loose. He was nearly captured twice but he had the help of a young boy who was well trained and dangerous. I believe the Talon and the Batman have joined Forces."

Darth Sidious became suddenly angry though his face remained calm. Darth Vader was glad his mask was in place to cover his involuntary wince as Dark power crackled through the Force. "Batman is a symbol that must not be allowed to stand. As soon as other systems hear about a vigilante that protects citizens from the Empire, other's will seek to join him. We cannot allow either vigilantes or the Rebel Alliance to continue to oppose us."

"I agree, Master," said Darth Vader. He rolled his eyes behind his mask as the Sidious stated the obvious. "But if the troops we have sent are insufficient, what would you have me do?"

Sidious seemed to calm himself considerably. "We will remove half of the troops from Gotham and have them begin to search elsewhere on the planet. This will inevitably draw the Talon out of hiding. If he has indeed joined forces with the Bat, then he will eventually come out at night more frequently to fight crime around the city."

"You propose to lure them into a state of complicity."

"Precisely," Sidious purred, "we may very well kill two strayed birds with one stone, so to speak."

"Brilliant as always, my Master," said Vader, "but if the troops are gone when the Bat and the Talon resurface, how do you propose to capture them? Shall I go to Gotham myself?"

"No, Lord Vader," said Sidious dismissively, "your presence would warn the Talon of the trap and he would undoubtedly inform the Batman. The means by which they are captured are up to you to figure out."

"Yes, my Master." Darth Vader rose from his kneeling position and swept out of the room. Ok, so all he had to do was oversee the demise of Batman and his former apprentice the Talon. It was too bad really. He had hoped that one day the Talon would be strong enough to help him over throw the Emperor. Out of all his apprentices or trainees, the Talon was the youngest and most promising. Not to mention, he actually liked the kid. Grayson wasn't like those distasteful Inquisitors who were used to hunt down Jedi unworthy of his own attention or the attention of the Talon.

But returning to the problem at hand; Vader still needed a way to capture Batman and the Talon. It was going to take nothing short of an invisible army to bring those two in. And since such a thing did not exist and he could not go himself, Vader found that he would have to hire a bounty hunter. And a high caliber bounty hunter at that. Boba Fett and Deathstroke aka. Slade Wilson came to mind. Opening the door to his private quarters, Vader called to a nearby Storm Trooper.

"Sir," said the trooper coming to attention.

"Have the black-ops agents contact Boba Fett and Deathstroke immediately."

"Yes sir."

 _And so would fall the Talon and the Bat._

* * *

 **Gotham City: Alvorine**

"Your tea will be ready in a moment Master Bruce," said Alfred without looking up from his work.

"So, this is where Bruce Wayne lives," said a young voice, "how many people guess that you're playing Batman in your basement?"

Alfred popped his head up and turned around at the sound of Richard's voice. Sure enough, there was the boy following Bruce into the kitchen. He was gazing around with curious darting blue eyes in a way the Alfred had always found endearing. He turned his attention back to Bruce as the man answered.

"I am not playing Batman in my basement. This crusade is not a joke," said Bruce in his no-nonsense tone.

Alfred quirked an eyebrow fondly at Bruce before turning his attention to Richard. "Master Bruce is most assuredly not playing dress up in his basement. He sees the bat-costume with the utmost seriousness." The old man's tone, while serious, was tinged with unmistakable sarcasm. Neither Richard nor Bruce missed the mirth glistening in his eyes.

"Must you make a point of mocking me, Alfred?" demanded Bruce.

"I sir?" Alfred feigned offence, "whatever do you mean?"

Richard laughed. It was an honest joyful laugh. Alfred hadn't heard one like it since before the Clone Wars. The old man handed the boy a mug of hot chocolate which was excepted with exuberant gratitude.

"Dick, wait for me in the living room we passed. I need to talk to Alfred for a moment," said Bruce.

"Yes, sir," said Dick. He walked out of the kitchen leaving Bruce and Alfred alone.

"I thought you said you weren't going to tell him your secret or ever allow him in the house. Dare I ask what changed that?" inquired Alfred. His face was puzzled but not displeased. Quite the contrary in fact.

Bruce sipped at his tea. "He figured it out a while ago. The kid's smart. I figured as long as he knew, there wasn't any reason to keep him locked up in the cave."

"I see," said Alfred. "but there's more to it, is there not?"

"Perhaps. I believe that you were right from the start. Dick is going to be a part of our lives. My fate and his are tied together somehow. I can feel a bond beginning in the Force."

Alfred finished taking the cookies off the tray and setting them in the storage unit. After removing his apron and wiping his hands on a rag, he regarded Bruce. "You're starting to like him despite yourself."

Bruce turned away. "Don't be ridiculous Alfred!" He stood and prepared to make his way to the living room where Dick was waiting for him. "All I'm saying is that I think I'm meant to help him. I think we belong together somehow."

"Like a master and a Padawan."

"Something like that."

"He's not what you expected, is he?"

"No."

* * *

 ** _Author's Note: Thank you all for reviews and spending your valuable time with my story. I hope you are enjoying it thus far. I know some authors like to message people back and thank them, but that's not something I remember to do. Never the less, I really do appreciate it and it helps me get going with the story again. Special thank you to the Guest who suggested adding Deathstroke in. I think it will be interesting._**


	8. Chapter 8: Can You See a Refiner's Fire?

**The Emperor's Talon**

 **Chapter 8: Can You See the Refiner's Fire?**

Bruce Wayne joined Dick Grayson by the fireplace in the living-room. The kid's eyes were transfixed on the crackling fire as it licked the burning wood; casting striking black shadows that danced on their faces. Dick was wearing that contemplative expression he always wore before he surprised Bruce with something either insightful or a piece of information he was not necessarily privy to but had nevertheless uncovered.

"Do you believe things can rise from the fire?" asked Dick.

Bruce looked at him with a raised eyebrow. What an odd child. "Like a phoenix?" he suggested. When Dick nodded, he considered it. "Yes, I suppose so."

"All the bad things in life are kind of like fire, don't you think? I mean, trials burn away pieces of what you were. You can either be consumed by fire or refined by it."

"Yes, I think life is a kind of metaphorical fire," Bruce agreed. He suspected he was picking up on where the boy was going. "You think being the Talon was like a kind of fire for you. And you're hoping you will come out refined by the experience rather than letting yourself be consumed by the pain."

"Yeah." Dick's eyes never left the leaping flames.

"What a very Jedi-like thing to say," Bruce teased. And wasn't that strange? Since when had he started teasing? Playful and Batman do not, nor had they ever, gone together.

"I was wondering if you believed it was possible," said Dick hugging his knees.

Bruce considered this for a moment. "I didn't," he confessed, "I had always been taught that no one can come back from the Dark Side. And then I met you." He turned towards Dick to see bright eyes watching him intently. "I think you might turn out alright kid."

"So, what happens now?"

Feeling less conflicted about having the boy around than he did three months ago when he happened upon a helpless Talon outside the city limits, Bruce gave voice to the thoughts rambling through his head (curtesy of one influential Alfred Pennyworth). "I know I said you should stay in the cave until I could be sure you weren't a threat any-more; and that, as soon as I was confident, I'd send you on your way. But…I um, think you should…I mean it would probably be best for you…to…" Bruce cursed himself for not finding the right words. "I want you to stay."

Richard cocked his head. "Meaning…"

Bruce exhaled. This was all happening too fast. "I was thinking that it would be unwise to send a twelve-year-old out into the world by himself; even if said kid could take care of himself. That's why I brought you up to the manor- you can't spend the rest of your life in the cave."

Dick's excitement radiated in the Force: pure and full of light. But his face remained more or less neutral for a minute more. "Does this mean you'll let me join you on patrols?"

"One step at a time," Bruce cautioned. "I'd like to get you a civilian ID first. Like I said before, the Empire is still looking for you. The garrison of Storm Troopers in Gotham now outnumber the civilian police two to one."

Dick nodded; if not satisfied, then understanding. He knew when it was better not to push people. For his part, he'd had his doubts about Bruce just as he knew Bruce had doubts about him. The man was introspective at best and full of silent but broiling anger at worst. Distrust tainted every encounter. And it took a while for Dick to figure things out. Then it hit him; Bruce Wayne- the all mighty Batman- was lost and stumbling in the dark like a hopeless youngling. And while the Batman had vowed to train him and help mold him into a hero for justice, Dick knew that it was really Bruce Wayne who was lost and in need of a savior. In that moment, Dick made a silent promise to save Bruce from his self-inflicted exile from the world. If there was one way for a Former Talon to start giving back to the galaxy, it was saving the man who fought for the people of that galaxy with every breath.

The two sat in an odd but comfortable silence for a few minutes. Dick was staring into the fire and wondering what stories it could tell if only it had a voice. Bruce was wondering what in the nine Corellian hells he had gotten himself into. In one night, everything he had thought and planned for the last three months had been shot to pieces in a matter of hours. How in the universe was he going to keep the Emperor's Talon in his house/basement without the world crumbling to pieces? Well, he was the greatest detective this side of the Force. If he set his mind to it, he'd find a way.

* * *

 ** _The Jericho,_** **Hyperspace:**

Striding into the cock-pit of the ship Lord Vader had given them, Boba Fett casually twirled a blaster pistol through his fingers and looked sidelong at his unfortunately designated companion. It was the way of bounty hunters not to work together much less trust each other; or anyone else for that matter. Yet Lord Vader had been most explicit that they were to work together. The Sith had insisted that two of them would be needed. Boba doubted that two bounty hunters of his caliber- especially if Slade Wilson lived up to his formidable reputation- would be needed to capture the Batman of Gotham and the Emperor's little Talon. He was rather confident either one of them could handle the mission on their own.

Sitting down in the co-pilot's chair, Boba addressed the man beside him, "you really think two of us are necessary? If you ask me, this is over-kill."

Slade looked up at the man in Mandelorian armor out of his one good eye. "I suspect we shall find out once we arrive on Alvorine," he responded calmly, "Lord Vader is not the most stable person, but he's no idiot. I suspect the Bat and the Talon, if they have indeed joined forces, will be a formidable foe."

"I work alone," Boba Fett huffed, "at the very least the Empire could have given us is our own ships."

"While I am not thrilled with the prospect of working with the likes of you myself, I suppose a mutual agreement is necessary. Were we to work against each other, the prize will certainly escape. When entering into a contract with the Empire, it's best to keep their end goal in mind; lest by some accident, the quarry evades capture and the hunter is executed." Slade glared pointedly at his partner daring the hot-headed bounty hunter to disagree.

For his part, Boba huffed again and began cleaning his blaster. Though he didn't trust Slade as far as he could spit, the old man was certainly the wiser of the two of them. He figured it would be better to catch the Bat and the boy and _then_ betray Slade and collect the bounty himself. He had no doubt that the man beside him was plotting the very same thing. So, with that un-spoked understanding, Boba was oddly optimistic about the productivity of their partnership- however long it lasted.

"Doing your homework on the Talon I see," quipped Boba after a moment, deliberately throwing Slade out of his introspective trance.

"The kid's got skills," observed Slade coolly as he studied the video footage of some of the Talon's exploits. He refused to be ruffled by his companion's obvious attempt to rile him.

Boba leaned towards the holo-screen. "Yeah, not bad for a child."

"Not bad, indeed," Slade responded thoughtfully.

* * *

 **Gotham City, Alvorine:**

Alfred hummed as he cooked breakfast the following morning. Personally, he couldn't be more delighted that Bruce was warming up to Richard. The boy had stolen his heart the first night Batman brought him home. Dick had a wisdom about him, a sarcastic temper, and a stubbornness that rivaled Batman's. Alfred liked the idea of Bruce having to deal with a kid who gave the Dark Knight as much trouble as Batman gave Alfred himself. Call it _just-deserts_ or whatever you like. It was about time someone showed Bruce just what a pain in a certain butler's backside he could be.

Outside the window behind the sink, Alvorine's white sun blazed; melting the snow and announcing the arrival of spring with all but blaring Gungan trumpets. Alfred allowed the mood of the morning to settle on his shoulders. The Force itself seamed calmer and brighter than it had in almost a decade since the rise of the Galactic Empire. Hope was as elusive as a moonbeam; yet Alfred had always clung to every shred he could find as though his life depended on it. Some days, like today, it payed off and rewarded the old man with boundless peace.

When Bruce walked into the kitchen, Alfred set a mug of steaming caf in front of him. "Good morning, sir," he greeted, "I trust you slept well."

Bruce grunted. He was impossible in the mornings.

"Master Richard was up and about hours ago. I believe he went to the cave to train," Alfred continued. He was not going to allow a grouchy-morning Batman to spoil his mood.

Bruce just grunted again and reached for his data reader.

"It's the first day of spring," the old man tried again.

Finally getting the hint that he was not allowed to spend his morning in his customary brooding solitude, Bruce looked up at his faithful friend. "Is something on you mind Alfred?"

"Well, sir, I cannot help but wonder what you are going to do with the boy now."

"I imagine I'll have to figure something out eventually," replied Bruce.

"Two steps forward, one step back; is that it, sir?"

Bruce glared up from his contemplation of the caf in his hands. "I said, I'll figure it out. Force knows hiding Dick from the Empire- likely in plain sight- isn't going to be a simple matter of 'hey, look at this kid I found. I'd like to keep him here so Emperor Palpatine doesn't make a killing machine out of him again!' It needs a more thought than that."

"Agreed, sir," said Alfred dryly.

Rubbing his temples and calming himself considerably, Bruce continued. "I think my first move should be to question Commissioner Gordon and District Governor Vox and find out just what the Empire/city knows about the Talon. Then I'll have an idea how to proceed."

"I think that would be most prudent," Alfred agreed. Setting a plate of chirrup eggs before his charge, he smiled. "Now how about that spring weather outside?"

"About time." They continued to make pleasant small talk as Bruce finished his meal.

Stepping out into the fresh spring air of Alvorine, Bruce Wayne took a moment to marvel at the beauty of the glistening city scape. Like Alfred, the hopefulness of spring began to invade his thoughts; bringing to mind hope and peace. Whatever trepidation he had felt about working towards taking on a new charge, or the Empire, or Gotham's criminals began to evaporate along with the snow. He breathed deeply. So, this was why the old man was so chatty and insistent on resolving the issue with Richard. Hope was marvelous inspiration for productivity.

He walked into the landing pad and climbed into his sleek Correlian speeder, and tossed his data-pad and briefcase on the passenger seat. Pressing his thumb-print against the starter, the engines purred to life. The repulsor-lifts engaged, and the speeder lifted off the ground. He pushed the thrusters and began his daily commute to Gotham City's bustling business district. Air traffic was heavy, but no worse than usual, and soon Bruce was setting his speeder down on his private landing pad on the top of the Wayne Enterprise's skyscraper. From the top of the building, he could see the city beneath him as a jungle of glass high-rises, apartment complexes, and tiny moving diamond that were the speeders zipping through the air. From the top of Wayne Enterprises, Bruce felt like a king.

...

 _Life is indeed a refiner's fire. A Jedi knight will walk through the flames and on the other side become a king. And a child assassin will walk through to emerge a beacon of hope. Despair is life's great lie; trials strengthen those who do not break._

 _..._

* * *

 _ **AN: Thank you all for your interest in this story and patience; it is greatly appreciated. And Happy New Year!** _


	9. Chapter 9: Those Amber Eyes

**The Emperor's Talon**

 **Chapter 9: Amber Eyes**

Bruce rode the turbo-lift down to the 41st floor and his lavish office. He threw off his overclaok and dropped the briefcase on his desk. The window which stretched from floor to ceiling, wall to wall gave him- not quite the view he had from the roof- but still a good look at the city and the sun reflecting off the shining buildings.

Finally settling behind his desk, Bruce looked over his agenda for the day. If he was lucky, there would be enough space to talk to Commissioner Gordon of Gotham City's dwindling civilian police force. Bruce liked the man. Though he had to comply in some ways with the Empire's regulations, Gordon still held on to the ideals of the lost Republic in secret. And while Bruce was rather of the opinion that the Republic had been majorly flawed, he appreciated the man's dedication to such ideals as they were far superior to those of the Empire.

Bruce groaned as his looked over his to-do list for the day. He had another meeting with an Imperial representative who was undoubtedly looking to bring Wayne Enterprises under the umbrella of Count Vidian's weapons conglomerate. Such a thing was impossible of course; Bruce was easily as powerful as the count even without backing from the Empire. He was dreading spending hours of his day dealing with this; seeing as he would never allow Wayne Enterprises' R&D department to make weapons or spy-tech for an Empire he royally despised. Other than that, he had paper work and smaller meetings to deal with. On the bright side, he _did_ have time to see the Commissioner.

He picked up his data-pad and got to work. After hours of paper-work, tedious negotiations, small talk, and listening to and making implied treats behind the façade of cordial smiles, Bruce was done with the day. Having had his secretary make a call to the Gotham City Police department, he awaited the arrival of his friend.

"Commissioner Gordon," greeted Bruce Wayne rising behind his felucian-wood desk to shake the man's hand, "thank you for coming to see me."

"A pleasure, Bruce," smiled Gordon, "what can I do for you."

Bruce smiled wryly for a moment. "I don't suppose you could save me from board meetings and paper-work."

"I'm afraid not," laughed Gordon.

"But in truth, I was wondering if you have any information on that Talon the Storm Troopers are looking for," said Bruce sobering the mood a little.

Gordon's mustache twitched. "I'm not sure what I'm at liberty to divulge, Bruce."

And now it was time to pull out the idiot-Bruce-Wayne-card. He smiled. "Please…you know me, I like to know everything that happens in Gotham. And this is by far the most interesting story in a long time."

"And what of those thugs the Batman left tangled in Mrs. Saddan's clothes line? I must say, I never knew under-garments made such excellent hand-cuffs."

"Old stuff," scoffed Bruce, "the Batman's been pulling stunts around here for years. I want to know about the Talon."

"Oh Bruce," sighed Gordon in resignation. "If it's stories you're after, I suppose I can entertain your curiosity for a few minutes. Ok, so here's the deal; the GCPD is supposed to be on the lookout for the Talon but all we have is a holo-shot of his mask. We don't even know what the kid looks like. Nobody's seen him in months; until last night that is. Rumor is he showed up, saved Batman, and vanished. The storm troopers are going crazy trying to find him."

"Fascinating!" exclaimed Bruce, having already picked up on a valuable tid-bit of information. "How are you going to find him if you don't know what he looks like? Did you ask the troopers for a description at least?"

Gordon nodded. "All we know is that he's about 12-years-old, lithe, muscular, and that he had frightful amber eyes."

"Amber?"

"Yeah. Haven't seen too many humans with yellow eyes myself."

"Should be easy to spot then," Bruce commented. Of course, he knew better; the Talon may have bright golden eyes but fortunately, Dick Grayson had eyes like the lakes of Nabboo in high summer. This could work out nicely.

"Maybe," Gordon responded cautiously. "There are a lot of people in Gotham."

"No kidding," laughed Bruce indicating the window with two fingers.

Gordon smiled too. "Anything else I can do for you while I'm here?"

"Ah yeah, there is actually. What would I need to do to become the legal guardian of my cousin's son?"

The commissioner quirked a grey eyebrow. He was used to Bruce making odd requests or surprising him with shocking near scandals, but this was something else. Considering the fact that this was the rather eccentric playboy billionaire, he supposed he should not have been surprised. "Well now, I can't say that I know," answered Gordon thoughtfully, "how old is the boy?"

Bruce smiled. "Coincidently, 12."

"Got amber eyes?" jested Gordon.

"Nah, blue."

"Ah well, guess I'll have to keep looking then. Where is he now?"

"He's in an orphanage on Dantine, in the outer-rim."

"Funny," said Gordon rubbing his chin, "I didn't know you had a cousin."

"That's understandable. He died on Raxis Prime during the Clone Wars. I thought the kid died too, but it appears I was mistaken." Bruce wasn't sure if he was pushing things too hard at this point, but Gordon didn't appear to see the connection between his two questions. He'd just keep on playing the idiot and minimally bending the truth where he needed to. The more hints he dropped, the easier it would be to get the Commissioner on board with helping him get Richard a civilian ID. It did help that Bruce really did have a cousin who died on Raxis Prime. The man had a son- about Richard's age- who died with him. From there, the records would be easy to falsify. Bruce had gotten good at that as Batman.

"Well that sounds exciting, Bruce," Gordon congratulated. "Though I find it hard to think of you as the nurturing type."

"That makes two of us!" They laughed together. "Alderanian Brandy?"

"Thank you," answered Gordon accepting the proffered glass of smooth liquor. After taking a sip, he continued, "I'd talk to Governor Vox's office and the Imperial Civilian Registration Bureau. From there it shouldn't be too hard; since you are the boy's next of kin."

"Thanks for the advice, James. And your interesting stories about Talon saved my day from being a complete bore."

"The CEO of Wayne Enterprises gets bored?" joked Gordon.

Bruce growled. "There is a reason those things are called _bored_ meetings." And he just made a pun. Idiot Bruce Wayne persona or not, the kid was rubbing off on him already. Bruce wasn't sure if he should extend his daily brooding time allowance to keep such unwanted influence to a minimum. Certainly, Gordon seemed to enjoy it. The man's gray eyes twinkled with mirth. They continued to talk over their brandy about politics, business, and Gordon's daughter Barbra for another hour or so. Then the head of the GCPD took his leave.

Bruce leaned back in his comfortable leather chair and steepled his fingers. If he played his cards right with the Empire's dense stooges, he should have little to no fuss becoming Richard's legal guardian. As the charge of Bruce Wayne, the kid would become practically untouchable; assuming he- Bruce Wayne- remained in favor with the Empire.

With a sigh, Bruce packed up his work and headed back to his speeder, then home. Outside, a band of violet twilight glimmered behind the glass and dura-steel buildings of Gotham City. The air had cooled by near ten degrees standard with the evening breeze. Lights in office buildings around the city were blinking on one by one and the windows began to glow yellow against the darkening sky. Beyond the shining stalagmite-like structure of the city, in Gotham's posh residential district, was Wayne manor.

Reaching home, he threw his stuff aside once again and prepared himself for dinner. He sat down at the long dining-room table and Alfred placed a plate of steaming nerf-steak, asparagus, and mashed shurra root in front of him.

"Thank you, Alfred."

"You're very welcome, sir. With your permission, I asked Master Richard to join you."

Dick appeared in the doorway before Bruce could think of a response. He looked at Bruce with bright eyes, "Alfred said I should join you. I hope I'm not intruding."

Bruce thought about it for a moment. If he was indeed serious about taking the boy in for good and giving him a home with a safe civilian persona, he'd have to get used to having the kid around. With more pleasure than he expected to feel, Bruce looked back at Dick and motioned to another chair. "No, you're not intruding at all."

* * *

 **The Imperial Palace; Corucant:**

"Lord Vader," greeted Emperor Palpatine as a shimmering blue holo-graphic image of his apprentice flickered to life at his feet. "How goes your plan to recapture our escaped Talon?"

"The wheels are in motion, my master," answered Darth Vader deferentially. "Deathstroke and Boba Fett are even now on their way to Gotham."

"Good. Give it another two weeks before you pull half our garrison from Gotham. If we move too soon, the Talon will catch onto our plans. I fear you trained him too well, my apprentice," hissed Sidious. It was sometimes hard to tell when he was reservedly angry or indifferent or looking for a reaction.

"He was a faithful servant for years, my master," Vader attempted to defend himself.

"Indeed," the Emperor drawled dismissively, "the fault lies with those fools who let him escape."

"They are scheduled for execution tomorrow," Vader assured him.

"Well done, Lord Vader. For now, concentrate your efforts on the Rebellion on Lothol. The district governor and Grand Inquisitor are having a more difficult time than perhaps they should."

"It shall be done my master."

* * *

 **Wayne Manor, Gotham City:**

The following evening in the batcave, the former Talon flipped gracefully over the high barre in a complicated release move before re-gripping it and swinging his body around in a 180-degree circle. He balanced in the handstand for a moment; then swooped around the barre again a few times before launching himself into a flashy dismount. Dick stuck the landing perfectly. He turned back towards the observation platform where Batman had just emerged; arms folded over his chest, face inscrutable.

By now, Dick was used to that lurking presence; and rather than pushing an interaction with the man, he grabbed a towel and flung it around his shoulders. He used one end to wipe away the sweat now rolling down his face and pushed the damp hair off his forehead. Grabbing a water bottle, Dick flashed Alfred a bright smile as the old man emerged from the service elevator on the cave's lower level. Alfred returned the smile with one of his own.

Dick shrugged out of his white and blue workout tank-top and threw it on the bench. He continued to smile somewhat sheepishly at Alfred as the butler picked up his sweaty laundry between his thumb and fore-finger in an exaggerated show of disgust. Either taking pity on the old man or out of embarrassment, Dick grabbed his shirt again and used the Force to float it towards the laundry hamper on the far side of the cave.

Alfred rolled his eyes and handed Dick a fresh tunic. "Master Yoda used to say, 'used for purposes of amusement, the Force must not be.'"

Dick cocked an eyebrow. "Speak backwards, he did? Suspect, I do, that difficult to understand he was."

"He was the order's most revered Jedi Master," Alfred explained. "He was cryptic at times- true- but he was wise."

"In a backwards sort of way?" teased Dick.

Alfred's expression, though not unamused, became unreadable. "You're lucky he's not here to hear you say that."

And just like that, the two fell silent. Too many emotions lay underneath. Too many stories. Too many memories. It all boiled underneath the surface and threatened to bubble over into a conversation no-one in the room was prepared to deal with. It was Dick who broke the uncomfortable silence. "If the Force is indeed a partner, then even the Force must have a sense of humor. Fate sure seems too."

"Indeed it does, Master Richard," agreed Alfred. The smile returned to his face wrinkling well-placed lines in his face. "If it didn't, I wouldn't be spending half my time in the basement with a man dressed as a bat. How far has this old Jedi instructor fallen?"

It was a rhetorical question. But Dick took it seriously. "We never fall, Alfred," he tossed his towel aside, "we merely take a break from flying."

Their interaction ended when Bruce, leaning over the observation level's railing, called down to them. "Dick, Alfred. There's something you need to see." The two looked at each other before mounting the stairs to the upper level; Dick Force leaping six stairs at a time while Alfred took it at a more dignified pace. They followed Bruce's finger to the Batcomputer's screen which was playing a real-time interview with Commissioner Gordon, Captain Dane in commend of the Storm Trooper Battalion, and Governor Vox. Dick involuntarily cringed. He was pretty sure he knew where all of this was going.

* * *

 **Imperial Holo-news station, Gotham City:**

"We're ready in three, sir," shouted the holo-vid camera man.

"Alright, Gordon," said Captain Dane turning to the commissioner, "stick to the script."

Gordon's mustache witched- a sign of his discomfiture- but he looked Dane in the eye. "You're asking me to lie to the people of Gotham."

"It's for their _protection_ \- and your own," Governor Vox assured him, "we need the civilian police on our side, Gordon. Now let's get this over with." The three men sat down in front of the cameras. Gordon tried to make himself look at ease as the lights intensified and the camera man counted down with his fingers. Gordon hoped he was doing the right thing. 3-2-1- on air.

"Good evening Gotham City," Governor Vox began, "Captain Dane and Commissioner Gordon are here with me to talk about the newest threat to Gotham. You all know the legend of the Talon- the child assassin that stalks the streets or homes and vanishes without a trace. Well, it's not a myth. Whatever the stories you've ever heard are, we're going to reveal the truth to you all tonight."

"Well put, Governor," Captain Dane congratulated his associate, "the Talon arrived on Alvorine three and a half months ago in full battle regalia. He came with the intent to not only wipe out our garrison of troopers but also any civilian loyal to the empire. Our troopers were able to apprehend the threat outside the city walls, but the Talon received help from the masked vigilante-criminal known as the Batman."

Gordon averted his eyes from the camera as the recited the script Captain Dane had given him. "Though many think the Batman is some kind of hero who stops crime around the city and stands up for the oppressed, he is as much a criminal as those he apprehends. He has chosen to side with the Talon against the people of Gotham."

"Our efforts have driven the Talon and Batman into hiding in the city," Captain Dane continued.

"The Empire is determined to fight for your safety and bring the Batman and Talon to justice, but we need your help," Governor Vox added, "we're asking the citizens of Gotham to report any suspicious activity or sightings of the Talon to either the GCPD or the Storm Trooper command post."

A picture of Richard dressed as the Talon appeared on the screen. His face was almost ash gray, blue and silver vein-like lines marked his face; but most alarming of all were the fierce amber eyes that seemed to glow with hatred. Then a video clip of his training against droids began to play; every move was calculated. Precise. Merciless. True they were only droids, but the cold efficiency with which he dispatched each and every highly programed droid was frightening.

The Holo-vid ended with Captain Dane entreating, "if you see this boy, turn him over immediately. He may be able to charm his way into your affections but under no circumstances can you trust him."

* * *

 **The Batcave:**

Dick looked up from the Holo-vid screen to see the stern face of Bruce and the kind eyes of Alfred glazed over. He would have like nothing better than to slit the throats of Captain Dane, Governor Vox, and Commissioner Gordon; but he banished those thoughts and filled himself with light. Under no circumstances would he allow the Dark Side to win.


	10. Chapter 10: The Prince of Gotham

**The Emperor's Talon**

 **Chapter 10: _The Prince of Gotham_**

Alfred came to himself first. "The nerve of those men!" he exclaimed, "is it not more or less common knowledge that the Talon was Emperor Palpatine's _personal_ assassin, a weapon against his political enemies?"

Dick shook his head. "They can say anything they want too. To most of the galaxy, the Talon is a mere myth that sprang from the mysterious dark event surrounding the birth of the empire. Where the Talon's loyalties stand is irrelevant to the average citizen. They only know the ghost stories, and stories as you know, can evolve to fit the situation."

"I take it that Palpatine set things up this way intentionally," growled Alfred.

"Naturally," Dick snorted, "he's as slippery as a bucket of eels."

Alfred could see that Dick had been quite shaken by the Holo-news program as a whole. He'd been watching the boy closely with one eye the whole time. The image and training video they'd played had wracked him internally; Alfred saw right through the mask of calm Richard had worn through the interview. And since it didn't look like Dick was up for lightening the mood himself, Alfred decided that he would try his own hand at levity to shake the boy out of whatever memories he was trapped in. "You're much handsomer than in the picture, Master Richard. What's your secret? Sun-tan lotion?"

Dick laughed. "Nah, face-masks."

"Might I suggest that you share your beauty secret with Palpatine?"

"Wouldn't do him any good. The Holo-news crew gave up on doing his make-up years ago."

Bruce inserted himself into the conversation. "Alfred might have a good point."

"About the Emperor's dire need of beauty treatment?" inquired Dick, quirking an eyebrow.

"No," answered Bruce flatly, "about the picture of the Talon looking nothing like you. This news footage could work to our advantage."

"How so sir?" demanded Alfred.

Bruce pulled up the image again onto the Batcomputer's display screen. "All of Gotham will be looking for a boy with amber eyes who looks like he crawled out of his grave for revenge. Dick on the other hand, has bright blue eyes and his skin has a healthy glow as long as he maintains normal body temperature and distances himself from the Dark Side. The contrast is great enough that getting his paperwork through as my ward should be laughably easy."

"Wouldn't it be suspicious if you go public with me now? I mean, all this talk about the Talon might mean people put two and two together," Dick objected.

"I think not," said Bruce, "the trick to hiding in plain sight is doing the unexpected boldly. It's time to make our move."

* * *

 ** _The Jericho_** **, Hyperspace:**

"We're exiting hyperspace," Boba Fett announced. Outside the _Jericho's_ cockpit viewport, the stars elongated into parallel beams of light as the ship seemed to appear from thin air just outside Alvorine's orbit. "Approach vector coordinates coming in now."

"Good," said Slade walking into the cockpit. He readjusted his eye patch and slid into the co-pilot's seat.

"I can't believe we made it two weeks in this flying bathtub without killing each other," Boba laughed darkly, "you might not be the worst partner in the world, after all."

Slade regarded the younger man with intense annoyance. "I suggest you focus on our objective rather than on heckling me."

"Where's your sense of humor old man?" Boba demanded as he punched the sublight thrusters and banked the control yoke towards Alvorine's atmosphere.

"I don't have one," Slade answered flatly, "we're allies, not friends."

"No need to remind me of that, Sour-puss." The younger bounty hunter refocused his eyes on the planet's surface; angling the _Jericho_ into the correct approach vector and keeping the small craft from burning up upon entry into the atmosphere. Looking askance at his companion, he asked, "anything we should know before we make our way into Gotham?"

Relieved to be talking business, Slade opened his data-reader. After a moment of silently reading and skimming headlines, he spoke. "There haven't been any sightings of the Talon in over two weeks. The Empire is pulling out half of the Storm Troopers in Gotham City to search the rest of the planet."

"Well what else is new?" scoffed Boba, "Storm Troopers are probably the most ineffective combatants I've ever encountered. It's no wonder they haven't apprehended the Talon yet."

While he didn't disagree with his associate's assessment of the Storm Troopers, Slade Wilson was more apt to look at the larger picture. "The Empire is trying to help lure the Bat and the Talon into the open for us. If half the Storm Troopers are off on a wild bantha chase, our quarry will be lulled into a state of complicity and carelessness."

Boba waved his hand dismissively. "Sure, sure. What else?"

Slade returned his attention to his data reader. He stroked his white goatee in obvious interest.

"What?" demanded Boba.

But Slade just continued to stare at the headline in front of him; " _The Prince of Gotham: Bruce Wayne adopts his Cousin's Son, Richard Wayne_." Under the headline was a picture of Billionaire Bruce Wayne and a blue-eyed boy with raven hair. Slade's good eye zeroed in on the boy in the picture. The resemblance between Richard Wayne and the Talon were uncanny despite the obvious discrepancy of their eyes, complexion, disposition, and identification papers. But after two weeks of obsessive study, Slade was confident he was an expert on Talon; and- in his professional opinion- this warranted further investigation.

"What?" Boba demanded again. He was obviously irritated.

"Nothing," answered Slade, "my eye was just caught by a Holo-news reporter in a red dress." He didn't see the need to reveal everything to his associate. True they were partners, but they were also bounty hunters with separate reputations. Slade hadn't survived this long without learning that some information was better kept to himself. His investigation of Richard Wayne might prove to give him a valuable edge.

For his part, Boba only snorted. He didn't believe Slade for a second, but he kept his suspicion to himself. "Twenty minutes to touchdown."

* * *

 **Gotham City, Avlorine:**

Richard Wayne- alternatively known as Dick Grayson- tried to keep a pleasant smile plastered on his face as he and Bruce walked down the steps from Governor Vox's office. Bruce had falsified records, bought the loyalties of certain off-world factions, and expedited the paper work to get Dick's new public identity legalized in record time. As far as the public was concerned, he was Richard Wayne, Bruce's cousin's son, and heir to Wayne Enterprises. It hadn't taken long for the Holo-net to name him "the Prince of Gotham."

A Holo-net reporter named Summer Gleason shoved her microphone in Bruce's face. "Mr. Wayne, how did you plan to take care of a child? Are you still going to continue your midnight exploits?"

Dick looked up at Bruce in alarm. Did this woman know about Batman? But Bruce laughed seemingly unconcerned. "Well Summer, a playboy doesn't reform easy; but I think we'll be just fine."

Another reporter jostled for position before Summer could pose a follow-up question. "Sir, can we get another shot of you and Richard?" Dick tried not to look like an ewok-in-the-headlights as Bruce smiled obligingly. He felt a strong arm around his shoulders and they both smiled into the camera. After a few pictures were taken, they continued their decent down the marble stairs. Pushing their way through the rest of the swarming reporters, Bruce and Dick finally made it to the sanctuary of the Bentley where Alfred was waiting for them.

Dick slid into the back seat followed by Bruce. "Quite the stir you caused, Master Bruce," Alfred commented dryly from the front seat.

"If I never see another holo-news camera in my life, it will be too soon," groaned Dick. He slouched in his seat and looked down at his expensive new suit. He preferred combat gear to the stuffy outfits of high society. Kevlar body armor, shields, and weapons belts were more comfortable than ties, slacks, and loafers in his opinion; but then it was probably a matter of one's upbringing and consequential preferences.

"Take us home, Alfred," ordered Bruce.

"With pleasure, sir," replied the old butler. The anti-grav repulsors engaged. The speeder lifted off the ground; and in one smooth motion, soared off into the city's air traffic lanes.

Dick stared out the window, beyond the traffic and building, and off into the horizon where Avlorine's red sun was just beginning to set. He thought that maybe he could see the forest of black trees where he had first found himself that night he ran away from his life as the Emperor's Talon. That first night when he had decided to put his past behind him and run headlong into a new future seemed so distant now. The urgency, the angst, the fear, and the snow felt as if they had somehow morphed into a dream; it was as if it had all been an illusion of the Dark Side. Never in a million years had he expected to end up here- as Bruce Wayne's adopted heir- when he'd made that first decision to run.

"What are you thinking about?" inquired Bruce.

"Lots of things," Dick answered cryptically.

Bruce nodded. "There's a lot to think about. I didn't see any of this coming that night I found you unconscious outside the city."

Dick winced. "Hey, I saved your hide twice since then, so I think we're even." Alfred smothered a laugh in his handkerchief, while Bruce merely snorted. "But actually Bruce, there's something I want to talk about."

"Oh?" Bruce leaned back in his seat and folded his arms over his chest.

"Yes. I want to go out on patrols with you."


	11. Chapter 11: Deathstroke and Boba Fett

**The Emperor's Talon**

 _ **Chapter 11: Deathstroke and Boba Fett**_

Boba landed the _Jericho_ on the edge of Alvorine's dense forest region not far from where Dick had bolted from the storm troopers nearly four months ago. He engaged the ship's low-power mode cloaking device and the ship all but faded from view. The two bounty hunters unbuckled their crash webbing and prepared to exit the cockpit. Grabbing their gear, the two disembarked from the ship and ambled down the gangplank.

Hiking his luggage higher onto his shoulder, Boba turned to a characteristically silent Slade Wilson. "How far till we reach Gotham?"

"Nine klicks North-East," answered Deathstroke scanning his data-pad's readout.

"Then I guess we'd better get moving."

"Agreed."

The two trudged through the forest at a respectable pace in silence. Alvorine's setting sun left a brilliant red horizon around them, and a little to their left, blinding rays of light splintered through the trees wherever the sun could penetrate. The ice and snow had begun to melt in earnest and dripped from the black branches above. The bounty hunters' feet trudged through the slush and dirt; a slurping noise accompanied the reclaiming of their boots from the wet ground.

After around three hours of walking, they reached Gotham City's durasteel wall. It had been built during the Clone Wars and still stood as sturdy as ever. By now the sky was nearly black and speckled with stars. The nightlife of Gotham was in full swing and the two men could make out loud music, shouting, and the steady hum of expensive speeder engines.

"Do we go in with the rabble or scale the wall?" asked Boba. Though he might generally prefer to work alone, he'd decided to let Slade take point for the moment. Watch and learn as the old adage said; not that the proud bounty hunter would ever admit such a thing.

"Do your scans detect any alarm systems on the wall?" Slade asked by way of an answer.

"No. Looks like they've already been deactivated by someone," Boba observed, "could be a trap."

Stroking his chin, Slade put a hand to the wall. Nothing happened. "I think we should have no trouble getting over the wall- especially with your Mandelorian jet-pack."

"Not a problem at all." He was secretly pleased that Slade had such confidence in his equipment. Respect from Deathstroke was neither easy to earn nor frequently expressed. They decided that Boba would fly Slade over the wall and then return with their gear. It crossed Boba's mind that he could easily take off with their gear and leave Slade at the wall. It crossed Slade's mind as well; but that unspoken agreement to work with each other was still in effect.

Once safely inside Gotham City and under the radar, Slade and Boba raced down several dark alleys and side streets until they reached a less densely populated sector. The city's border and North-east district was less strictly regulated or directly controlled by either the city police or troopers. The streets in this part of the city were lit by street lights placed almost haphazardly on the side walks and worked only intermittently. Ferocreat buildings with a few bombed out windows and rusty fire-escapes rose a maximum of seven stories on both sides.

Slade paused halfway down one such street. It was narrower than he would have liked, but the cheap apartment complex to his right offered a perfect strategical operations HQ and as good a vantage point as they were going to get in this part of Gotham. He put out a hand to halt his companion. Boba stopped and looked at him quizzically. Surely, they could do better than this dilapidated apartment building.

Pointing to the window of a top-floor corner apartment, Slade addressed his associate; "up there. It's high enough and out of the way. We can operate from there without detection. There are multiple ways to get in and out should things fail to go our way."

Boba looked dubious at best. "We're in Crime Alley. There's no 'under the radar' in either the best places or the worst places in _any_ city."

"Bounty Hunters will blend in nicely here," Slade argued, "but more importantly, Crime Alley will draw the Bat and the Talon to us without them even realizing it. The Batman, and by extension the Talon, are crime fighters; and what better place for them to start than Crime Alley? We can observe them without giving away anything."

Boba was still unimpressed by Deathstroke's logic, however sound it was. He preferred maintaining residence farther way from the action in a defensible stronghold. "We can do better."

"Then you are welcome to look but I will remain here."

Boba regarded Slade who was- for all intent and purpose- unreadable behind the orange and black mask. He had never worked with anyone like Slade before and found the older man oddly beguiling when he was silent. Once again, he figured it was best not to cross Deathstroke the Terminator just yet. Boba Fett might be quickly gaining a reputation as the deadliest bounty hunter in the galaxy, but he suspected that Slade Wilson would give him a run for his credits and open the subject for debate. "Fine," he huffed after a long pause, "but you sleep on the couch."

"Wise choice," Slade commended but his tone was undecipherable.

The two picked the lock on the building and marched up the cement staircases of the apartment complex. The halls, devoid of life except for a couple rats, were cool and drafty; the walls were coated in gray dust and littered with dents, drops of blood, and chard pockets where blaster bolts had gone wild. Behind his mask, Slade wrinkled his nose. This place was unruly and uncivilized. While he was no stranger to such places, like any bounty hunter, Slade enjoyed the finer things in life.

Boba hacked the door's entrance control panel and the two bounty hunters asserted themselves into the room. Deathstroke unsheathed his katana and held it aloft and ready while Boba pointed twin blasters into the interior. But no one moved; the room was perfectly still and silent.

Slade scanned his surroundings. The apartment was dark except for the pale blue moonbeams coming in through the cracked window. The face of one drunken man, slouched against the far wall, was cast into fuzzy relief by that little bit of illumination. The rest of the empty room was shrouded in black shadows aside from the light glinting off broken glass bottles littered on the floor.

He crossed the room towards the man and poked him with the tip of his blade. "If you want to live, you're going to do exactly as I say."

The man shifted slightly and pushed Slade's katana away from him. "Get outt'a here."

" _You_ had better get out," Boba warned, "we need this apartment. And I'd advise you to do as you're told and not mention this to anyone."

The man laughed and, as intoxicated as he was, pushed himself to his feet. He pointed his thumb at his chest. "Willis Todd don't do nothin' for no-one. I aint goin' nowhere."

"This is your last chance to walk out of this apartment," Slade warned.

Willis cracked an empty bottle of beer over Deathstroke's helmet. "No, _you_ get lost. I didn't break in here to get away from the old-woman and the kid just to tangle with bounty hunters."

"Alright, I've had enough." Boba fired one shot and Willis crumpled to the ground. He dragged the smoking body out into the hall and left it there.

"Was that really necessary?" asked Slade. He sounded slightly bemused and more than a little aggravated as he began setting up their gear and security systems.

"The man was a drunken buffoon and petty criminal. I don't tolerate those very well."

"Our objective is to maintain a low profile."

Boba shrugged. "He's a drunken man who was killed in Crime Alley with a blaster shot to the chest. Anyone could have done it. It's not an un-common occurrence in places like this and it will go unnoticed."

Without further conversation, the two finished reconfiguring the apartment's entrance control panel and hooking it into a portable alarm system. Boba stashed and cleaned his weapons while Slade set up the monitors. Without the younger bounty hunter looking over his shoulder, Slade rewatched the video footage of the Talon for the hundredth time; his obsession might have been considered stalker-like had such activities not been already widely accepted as a part of his trade. Deathstroke was the best at what he did because he never moved until he knew his prey better than they knew themselves.

The night wore on and the sun reared her head over the lip of the horizon. Deathstroke watched. He was patient. And even the hope that comes with dawn is not enough to detour death. Dawn can be as cold as midnight. Everything was already being calculated. All the bounty hunters had to do was wait.

* * *

 **Wayne Manor, Gotham City:**

"Why?" demanded Dick, "the empire- and now the whole city- knows that the Batman and the Talon are working together."

Bruce rubbed his temples in exhausted frustration. Richard hadn't let up on his argument for and urge to join him on patrol. "It's just too dangerous."

"For me? Or the city?" Dick cocked his head as he still often did when he sensed that someone had ulterior motives. He was rarely- if ever- wrong.

After a moment of deliberate hesitation, Bruce put a hand on Dick's shoulder. "You should just enjoy being free."

"You didn't answer the question," Dick pointed out.

Bruce heaved a sigh. "I trust you not to go ballistic on me, Dick; if that's what you were thinking. Maybe before I didn't trust you not to let your Talon instincts take over; maybe I thought you could never be more than a killing machine." He shook his head as if trying to clear it. "But now I see a kid. I see a boy who should just live his life to the fullest; one who should just feel free."

"I am. And it's swell living here with you and Alfred, but I want to be free to fight for what _I_ want to fight for." He looked up and Bruce. "You can understand that, right?"

"I understand. I do. But…"

"I want to do this Bruce. I _need_ to."

Bruce took a moment to compose himself and regain full control of the situation. Over the short time he had known Dick, he had found the boy very good at shifting conversations or battles to fit his own agenda. Bruce didn't doubt that the boy could adapt to his situations, but he was an expert at adapting his situations to fit him. Bruce didn't like to admit it, but Dick was very difficult to argue with. He folded his arms over his chest and looked down at the boy; the boy who had- against all odds- somehow found himself knocking at the door to Batman's heart of stone.

"Fine." He glared at Dick intently. "Against my better judgement, I will allow you to accompany me on patrols."

Dick's eyes lit up like a million burning stars. Bruce held up a hand. " _But_ , you will do so on my terms. Gotham is my city to protect. You are my ward to protect. Your Light Side Force application training, detective skills, atmospheric awareness, and non-lethal combat training will double in difficulty. Is that clear."

"Perfectly." Dick didn't seem phased in the least by the sternness in Bruce's voice, though he did bristle a little at the idea of needing protection.

"Good." Bruce nodded once satisfied. "You'll need a new alias. Any ideas?"

"Robin."

"Like the bird?" Bruce quirked an eyebrow in obvious confusion.

Dick laughed. "I was watching them outside. And every time I saw one, I felt like hope was saying 'hello from heaven. You'll never be alone.' That's exactly the opposite of the message the Talon was supposed to send, and it's what I want."

"Striking fear into the hearts of you opponents isn't always a bad thing, Dick," Bruce told him. "Batman was designed for such a purpose. The difference between Batman and the Talon is that Batman fights for justice and leaves the criminals alive to face such justice."

"Batman is just a different kind of fear and darkness than the Talon," Dick elaborated, "but I want nothing to do with darkness."

Now it was Bruce's turn to smile. "Well you're young yet. Hope suits you, _Robin_."

Dick looked amused. "I didn't think you knew how to smile."

"Don't get used to it." Bruce resumed his habitual stern expression. "Now head upstairs and get some rest. It's sun-rise and you never went to bed last night."

"That's because you wouldn't see reason sooner and drew out the argument," Dick retorted.

"Don't get cocky." While his tone was warning, Dick could detect amusement shimmering on the edge of Bruce's aura in the Force. Still, Dick thought it was best not to cross the man at the moment and headed up-stairs.

Bruce watched him go. He wanted to slap himself in the face for agreeing to let Dick out on the streets so soon. It wasn't that he didn't think he could trust the kid, he was just afraid. He wasn't sure what he was afraid of exactly, but he had a feeling that things would end badly. Deciding to brood on the subject later, Bruce removed his cowl and headed for the showers. So much for his resolve not to let the kid worm his way into his affections. Who knew a little assassin could be so bewitching?

When he got out of the shower, Bruce found that Alfred had laid out his suit and tie for yet another day at Wayne Enterprises. Once dressed, he walked up the long flight of stone steps to the house. Alfred was waiting with his breakfast in the kitchen as usual.

"Good morning, sir," the butler greeted.

"Did Dick go to bed?" asked Bruce.

"Yes sir, he did."

"Good."

Alfred placed Alderanian ghost-berry muffins in front of Bruce. "I understand you have a new partner in crime-fighting."

"Yes. Against my better judgment."

"We both know the boy has skills; and his aptitude for the Force is uncanny, especially for one trained as he was."

"I know. But I sense a darkness descending on Gotham. And I think it had something to do with Richard." Bruce looked down into his coffee. "He's a good kid, Alfred. I don't want to see him get hurt."

"Spoken like a Jedi Master with attachment problems," teased Alfred.

Bruce looked up sharply. "We aren't Jedi any more. They're dead."

"Only if we let them die," the old man argued. "I will meditate on Gotham. Perhaps the answers will come through the Force. In the meantime, here is the invitation to Mrs. Grandfield's annual Gothamite Social Ball."

Bruce waved his hand dismissively. "Please make my apologies to Mrs. Grandfield, Alfred."

"I'm sorry sir, but you have already dodged her last three parties, and it would be uncommonly rude to decline this one as well."

Bruce growled.

"And I suggest you bring Master Richard along. Commissioner Gordon will be there with Miss Barbra and I believe it would do the young Master some good to meet children around his own age who have not been raised by assassins, mysterious courts, or Sith Lords."

Another growl. "Fine. Make the arrangements then."

"Very good, sir."

"And Alfred, keep an eye on Dick, will you? I can't shake this bad feeling."

"He'll be safe with me."

Bruce nodded and headed off to work.


	12. Chapter 12: Robin

**The Emperor's Talon**

 **Chapter 12: Robin**

When Bruce got home from work that evening, be dropped his briefcase and papers off in his private den and headed to the grandfather clock in the corner of the room. The whole house was decorated with the antiques his biological parents had left behind for him in their will. The Jedi code had ordered that Bruce renounce such claims; and he would have, if not for the untimely end of the order.

He passed through the opening to the Batcave behind the clock more out of habit than a conscious or deliberate thought. As he descended the stairs, he was enveloped by the cave's cool drafty air. Walking a little further, he could hear hard breathing and the rhythmic pounding of running feet. Richard. That boy was always training. Always moving. He might make a good protégé if he could keep the Talon under control in the field. Bruce didn't want to think about what would happen if someone pushed the boy too hard.

Bruce shelved his doubts and fears for the time being. They were going on patrol tonight. He'd have a chance to gauge the boy's adaptability, skill, and commitment then.

"Heyo, Bruce," called Dick from a handstand on the high bar.

Bruce looked up for a second. "Focus. No distractions."

Dick swung himself through a couple giants before landing a complicated dismount lightly on the balls of his feet. Bruce nodded. "Finished your training homework?"

"Yes, sir," answered Dick running a towel through his damp hair. He smiled lightly.

"Good. Before you go out on patrol tonight, we need to talk."

"We already did," Dick pointed out, "I'm going. End of discussion."

Bruce grabbed Dick's arm to stop him from walking away. "We have to be able to work together. That means you need to tell me ahead of time what your limits and weaknesses are, so I know what to watch out for."

Dick looked up appraisingly. "Are you going to tell me yours?"

"I'm Batman. I don't have weaknesses." Bruce folded his arms over his chest.

The former Talon snorted. "I'm _Robin_. Neither do I."

"Answers to this question are not optional."

"Oh, so the rules are different for me?"

"Exactly."

"You want to know my weaknesses? You're a detective. Figure it out."

"This is _not_ a game Richard," Bruce growled. He hated not being in control of everything. Hated it.

Dick gave him that look again; the infuriating one. "Trust works two ways, Bruce. You need to have the strength to control the things you can. Faith to release the things you can't. And the wisdom to know the difference. Working together is big; I get it. But I'm not putting all my cards on the table when you're unwilling to show me even one."

"This isn't about my need to control everything!" Bruce insisted.

"So, it's different than everything else?"

Bruce growled again. "It's about protecting you from my city; and my city from the Talon. For all I know he's still buried so deep inside you that _you_ don't even know it."

Dick almost flinched. That cut deep into a wound not yet healed over. No matter how hard he tried to let it, something always ripped it open again. It wasn't that he didn't have his doubts- he did- he just wished someone else would believe in him enough that he didn't have to work so damn hard to believe in himself. "You decided to trust me to become your partner, to become Robin. That's the first step. Don't push two in one day."

"You agreed to follow my lead," Bruce pointed out.

"And you agreed to work _together_ ," Dick shot back. "That word means sharing: the work, the burden, the information, the pain, the trust. All of it."

"You trust me, and then I'll learn to trust you."

"That's not how it works."

Bruce wasn't going to get anywhere with this right now. He considered telling Dick to stay in for the night until he was ready to be more compliant, but then he realized that the boy would just sneak out on his own. He would have more control over Dick if he could keep an eye on him. "Fine. We'll try it out tonight," he consented. "The kind of trust you're talking about takes years to build."

Dick nodded. "And seconds to break."

"Yeah," Bruce sighed under his breath. He stiffened again. "Get dressed. We're leaving as soon as the sun goes down."

"Yes, sir."

Bruce nodded again. He headed off towards the changing area.

* * *

 **Crime Alley:**

"Good riddance to bad rubbish, if you want my opinion, Commissioner," said Chief O'Hara as he watched the paramedics remove the body of Willis Todd from the crime scene. He propped his cap further back on his forehead and looked down at the chalk outline on the hallway's floor.

"We still don't have a clue as to who did it," said Gordon ignoring Chief O'Hara's remark. He stroked his chin. "I have a bad feeling out this case."

"So, one more petty criminal was murdered. Makes our job easier, I think."

Gordon shook his head. "I don't think this is an ordinary murder, even for Gotham."

"Why…" O'Hara snapped his head around, "hey, kid! You can't be here. This is a crime scene."

A woman, swaying slightly, stood in the hallway of the apartment complex and started down at the outline on the floor. She looked bruised, worn, and quite possibly intoxicated. A few steps in front of her stood a boy- maybe ten-years-old- with black hair and shining eyes. They were both transfixed by the bloodstains on the wall.

"Mam, you and the boy need to leave," O'Hara reiterated.

"Where'd you take my pop?" demanded the boy defiantly.

"That's not your concern right now. Please, you need to leave this place. It isn't safe. We haven't caught the perpetrator yet."

"He…he was my husband," slurred the woman. "I need to see him."

Gordon raced over to her and caught her before she collapsed on the floor. "I'm sorry, mam. Please let me take you and the boy home."

"But…" she tried to protest, but Gordon and O'Hara were already escorting them out of the building.

* * *

 **The Batcave:**

Batman leaned against the computer console and stared up at the screen. Police and Storm Trooper alerts spidered across the left monitor in code before running through a decryption algorithm and appearing on the center screen in basic. Distracted as he was, Batman scrolled through the numerous alerts and cases. There were plenty for him to choose from: Deathstick dealers in the industrial district, cat-burglar gem heist in North Gotham, the Todd murder case in Crime Alley, the list went on and on.

"Dick," he called over his shoulder, "hurry up or I'm leaving without you."

"It's _Robin_ in the field, Bats," a voice corrected at his shoulder.

Batman had enough dignity not to jump at the unexpected proximity of that voice, thus the effect of surprise on him was confined to the lift of one jet black eyebrow. "Where were you?" he demanded empirically.

"Alfred had some work to do on my gear. He said it wouldn't be proper to go crimefighting in street clothes, and I burned my Talon armor," Robin explained.

Batman looked over Robin's new gear appraisingly. He didn't agree with the brighter color scheme, but then, there wasn't anything to be done about it tonight. Not for the first time that night, he regretted agreeing to take on a "sidekick" or as Dick called himself, "a partner". Alfred would prefer to call Robin Batman's Padawan and Dick Bruce Wayne's adopted son, but he wasn't ready for that.

Opting not to comment, Batman turned back to the screen. "Look over these files before we go. Pay close attention to the files on the Willis Todd murder and the recent activity of TwoFace's Deathstick cartel. Before engaging an opponent, one must know everything about them. Going in blind is dangerous."

Robin put his hands on his hips and looked up at the screen. "Willis Todd: small time criminal, minor drug dealer, and car thief. He worked for Harvey Dent aka. TwoFace on at least two notable occasions; the most recent of which was one week and three days prior to his murder at 2:54 am this morning." He turned to Batman. "You think the two cases are connected."

"You hacked my files," Batman accused.

Robin shrugged, and the corners of his lips quirked upwards. "I didn't want to go in blind. It's _dangerous_."

Batman was left speechless. A low growl rumbled underneath his breath as he leaned over to switch the files on the screen once again. "Another thing we have to consider is the recent Storm Trooper activity. Half of the Empire's garrison has been removed from the city to search for the Talon elsewhere on the planet."

Robin looked disconcerted. "Why?"

"Good question. My guess is that this is some kind of trap for us."

"It's common knowledge that the Batman works in Gotham and that the 'Talon' is working with him; yet the Empire moves half of their strength out of the city limits. So, this move is probably calculated to lure us into some kind of carelessness, in the hopes that we'll slip up."

Batman folded his arms over his chest. "That is my read of the situation."

"So, there's probably something worse than half a regiment of Storm Troopers in Gotham right now, or coming to Gotham," Robin concluded.

"I have a feeling it's already here. And it's here for us."

"Ok, there's a trap. Next move, Boss?"

"Spring the trap."

Robin smiled mischievously. "This could be one hell of a night."

"We know something is going on in Gotham. Be alert and not take any unnecessary risks." Batman handed Robin a com-link. "Stay connected at all times. You're to follow my lead and no questions asked. Got it?"

A shrug. "You're the boss."

"I _mean_ it; no goofing off."

Robin sobered a little. "I'm an ex-assassin. I know how to focus."

"Good." Batman tugged the cowl down over his eyes. "Get in the Batmobile. We're starting in Crime Alley tonight."

* * *

 **Crime Alley, Apartment 66:**

Slade Wilson sat in front of the largest monitor watching the security feeds from their cameras and probe droids like a hawk. His feet were casually resting on the desk- crossed at the ankles- and disturbing the think layer of dust under his boots. With one hand, he spun a long white knife through his fingers; and with the other, he sipped tea from a chipped china cup. Behind him, Boba Fett was exercising; Slade could tell by the slight panting and steam resonating as his back.

The security cameras showed the empty hallway where the police had just left the Willis Todd crime scene, empty streets around the apartment complex, and the lifeless rooftops nearby. There wasn't even a shadow to indicate the presence of either the Batman or the Talon. But Slade was patient. Although he had initially been annoyed with his associate for murdering the pervious occupant of the apartment, he now thought it might prove very beneficial. Surly the Bat had heard about the murder by now and would be on his way to investigate. All the Bounty Hunters had to do was wait and watch.

"I think your Talon is a no show," mocked Boba from behind him, "we should be hunting not waiting around."

"Patience," ordered Slade. "They will come in time, thanks to you my trigger-happy associate."

Boba huffed. "They'd better."

"Yes. For your sake, I hope they are as easily duped as the GCPD. I don't want to engage them just yet." Slade put the tea cup on the table and took his feet off the desk to get a closer look at the monitors.

"Not engage them yet? What? Are you going to wait for them to die of old age before you bring them in?" scoffed the younger Bounty Hunter.

"No. But I would like to see a test of their intelligence and skill before I face them." Slade finally turned around and looked Boba in the eye. "I leave nothing to chance. _I_ decide who lives and dies. And _I_ decide how the battle unfolds; not my quarry, not my associates. You want to win a game of death? You have to beat the odds by being the most knowledgeable and trickiest person in the room."

"Or you just need the biggest gun," Boba retorted.

"Wouldn't you want to know ahead of time if you _had_ the biggest gun?"

Boba growled.

"Wait and watch. Soon all the cards will be in our hands."

* * *

 **Author's Note: Sorry it took so long to update for those of you who were waiting a while. Thank you for your patience, interest, and involvement. Chapter 13 is in the works. Sorry again for the delay.**


	13. Chapter 13: Demons of Crime Alley

**The Emperor's Talon**

 **Chapter 13: _Demons of Crime Alley_**

The Batmobile sped through Gotham's skyways. Buildings and bright lights raced past in vibrantly shining streaks of color. Melting snow continued to drip from the high-rises making everything gleam as the artificial lights danced off wet durasteal and glass. Beyond the sparkling cityscape of Gotham's most regal towers, came the dirty and dangerous regions; mostly along the city border on the Bludhaven side. The Batmobile dashed unseen out of the glorious pride of the city and into one such sector.

Batman stopped over Crime Alley and allowed the vehicle to idly hover over a dilapidated cement apartment complex. The Batmobile's cloaking device and anti-grav repulsors went into auto pilot as Batman popped the canopy. Out of habit, he made one final check of his utility belt before leaping over the side of the speeder and landing cat-footed on the roof below.

Robin smiled as he looked down at the rooftop and prepared to follow his mentor. Unable to contain his excitement, he threw himself into the air and spun a double somersault in the night sky. Fresh Spring wind whipped his cloak and ran its chilly fingers through his hair. Suspended for a few breathtaking seconds over the rooftop, he was surrounded by nothing but air. This was flying. This was freedom! He landed lightly beside Batman in a low crouch, grinning fiercely.

"No need for such theatricality in your landings, Robin," Batman scolded.

"Unnecessarily flashy acrobatics are _my_ thing. Brooding is _yours_ ," Robin retorted lightly.

"Remember what I said about focusing?"

Robin shrugged. "Everyone's got a gimmick these days."

"Quiet. We're going in."

Batman and Robin moved silently over the rooftop towards a rusty trapdoor by the solar panels. The door creaked ever so softly as Batman lifted it open. He vanished like a fleeting breath of winter wind into the shadows. Being a former Talon had its advantages, Robin found, as his eyes were well adjusted to the lack of light. Silent as a forgotten spirit, he followed Batman's lead into the musty blackness of the apartment's attic.

Scanning his surroundings, Robin discovered a door only partially open. The rest of the room was empty except for a few unopened cardboard boxes and utilities. Batman must have gone ahead without him. Playing the stealth game for his own purposes rather than the execution of the Emperor's bidding would be new and exciting. Robin grinned freely as he passed through the door and tumbled silently down the hall.

When he caught up with Batman, the Dark Knight was kneeling by the chalk outline of Willis Todd's body. His fingers traced the line as it moved from the floor up onto the wall where the man's back had been slumped in an uncomfortable upright position. Robin looked too. He noticed right away multiple sets of footprints and scuff marks in the dirt on the floor. Obviously, no one had thought to clean it in a long time. Unfortunately, no matter how hard he strained his eyes, he could not detect any prints out of the ordinary.

"The police report describes the body as having been shot through the chest with an exit wound in the back." Batman's low voice resounded eerily soft in the stillness of the hallway. The one flickering yellow lightbulb did not make the effect any more comforting.

Robin stopped examining the footprints and looked back at the man. "So?"

"If Willis Todd was shot in this hall. And if the blaster bolt passed all the way through him creating an exit wound, then there would be a new blaster burn and blood on the wall where he was hit."

Robin was instantly alert. "The wall behind the body is smeared with blood from right to left meaning that he either sat down or was set down _after_ he was shot."

"Correct." Batman rose. "There is no indication on the wall that a man was shot in the way that the police report describes in _this_ hall."

"Which means that the murder happened elsewhere and whoever killed Todd dropped the body in the hall," Robin finished. He should know. Not that as the Talon he had ever been this careless with bodies. The boy shivered involuntarily. Perhaps Batman had been right, and it was too soon for him to be out on the streets again. Robin shook his head as if to clear it. "So, since this is not the _actual_ crime scene, we have no obvious link to the perpetrators."

"Not an obvious one, no," Batman agreed.

"The police didn't get any relevant information from any of the other occupants of the building?"

"No. No one was even aware that Willis Todd was in the building since he is not an official resident." Batman stooped by the chalk outline again.

"Which, I suppose, could support your Black Mask connection theory. He may have been in hiding from the cartel; unless…" Robin stopped short.

Batman nodded grimly. "Unless whatever the Storm Troopers were making way for is already here. Black Mask is a little more…showy…with his murders. He likes to make a point. His murders are designed to punish people and send a message to Gotham."

"This one almost looks casual," Robin observed. "It's like whoever killed Willis Todd didn't think him worth the effort of dealing with and just deposited his body in the hall."

"That appears to be the case."

"Which means that Todd wasn't the killer's real target."

"That's a cynical observation, Robin," Batman quipped, unexpected amused. Dark humor gets the better of every crimefighter sooner or later.

"Why do I get the feeling that a Black Mask murder would make this case a little _less_ terrifying?" laughed Robin. He was making light of the situation. He didn't need batman to know that something about this case was making him unexplainably queasy. It wasn't that they were dealing with a bloody murder- that had been a good portion of his life- but there was something else. Something off.

For his part, Batman had gone silent again. He seamed lost in thought. The cogs of his detective's mind churned with thousands of possibilities and explanations. Non of them good. He had of course done his research on Willis Todd before leaving the cave. The man had a lot of enemies, but there was something very wrong about this case. And it wasn't anything he could really pin-point. There were demons here; vagabonds and thieves milled about in the shadows. The Dark Side festered in Crime Alley, hiding heroes and killers alike in her lightless belly.

* * *

 **Crime Alley, Apartment 66:**

"They're in the hall," Boba whispered. Batman and Robin moved like phantoms up and down the hall outside the door of their apartment; he could see them on the security feed.

Slade looked up from his second cup of tea. "And I thought Batman was the detective."

Boba growled. "They're right outside. We should ambush them and be done with it."

"Ambushes are not as effective as some people believe," Slade raised an eyebrow, practically daring Boba to rush headlong into the hall. "Unless the battle is won swiftly, the element of surprise wares off; your opponent can easily recover and shift the tide of battle in his own favor."

"What do _you_ gain by doing nothing?" demanded Boba.

"Doing nothing?" repeated Slade, "on the contrary. I'm learning quite a lot."

"Like what?"

"Batman and the Talon both have logical and analytical minds. They're as quiet and stealthy as shadows; even capable of slipping past more than half of our security cameras. Batman picks up on things very swiftly; he's quite the detective. Talon, even though he's young, sees the bigger picture astonishingly well. He can fit together pieces of puzzles and determine which clues or ideas are irrelevant. Didn't you notice how they have already figured out that the Storm Troopers were moved out of Gotham to make room for something more deadly?"

Boba chewed his lip. "So, you've learned a little about how they think. Isn't it more relevant to know how they fight?"

"Not necessarily. But I don't think I've gleaned all I can from this exhibition. Not yet, anyways."

"What did you do?" the hot-headed Bounty Hunter raised an eyebrow behind his helmet.

"I called the Storm Troopers and told them where to find Batman and the Talon," Slade answered matter of factly. "They'll be here in minutes. We will watch the battle unfold, and then my dear Fett, you will learn how they _fight_."

Boba grunted approvingly. "You cover your bases, Deathstroke; I'll give you that."

"Indeed I do. A failure in planning is a plan for failure. Now sit back and enjoy the show."

* * *

 **Crime Alley, on site Todd murder scene:**

Robin was getting frustrated. It wasn't like they had the authority to go barging into every apartment in the building looking for Willis Todd's murderer. Ok, technically they were trespassing already, but going into the building of a crime scene is a little different than barging in on innocent civilians. He pushed the hood off his face and ran a hand through his tousled black hair. Then he felt it; a slight tremor in the tide of the Force. He turned.

Batman was on his feet again. Heavy footsteps clattered noisily up the cement staircase on the bottom floor and were headed their way. They had seconds before they were trapped in the hallway with two dozen Storm Troopers. A glance at the Dark Knight's scowl revealed that Batman was thinking the same thing. They'd be caught like Alderanian rain-fish in a barrel if they stayed in the hall. While Batman and Robin were concerned with the safety of the tenors of the apartment building, the Storm Troopers were under no such ethical compunction.

"Someone turned us in," Robin proclaimed flatly.

"Back to the roof," ordered Batman. With a whoosh of his cape, the man was gone.

Robin threw the hood of his cape over his head again. He gathered the Force around himself and felt for their escape route, the danger, and the civilians within proximity. His senses cast themselves like a blanket into the Force, subtly lifting the shroud of darkness. Within his Force perception, Robin could see two cold and heartless demons, a swarm of mindless darkness, several terrified individuals, and one lone beacon flickering between the light and the dark.

"Batman, wait," he called, "I have to go back."

"Don't be foolish," hissed the Dark Knight, "there's no time."

"I sensed someone hiding in the hall."

"The killer?" questioned Batman, suddenly interested.

"No. I don't think so. It was a…a kid." Robin's eyes grew wide. The first of the Storm Troopers were running up the last flight of stairs.

Batman looked torn for the briefest of seconds. In fact, Robin would have missed it if he hadn't been so deep within the Force at that moment. "Hurry," he instructed.

Robin ran back down the hall. The Force led him strait towards a deep crevice between the stairwell and the adjacent doorframe. Inside, a ten-year-old boy had curled himself into a ball; no doubt waiting for Batman and Robin to vacate the place and give him a chance to perform his own investigation of the crime scene.

Robin kneeled in front of the boy. "You need to get out of here. If the Storm Troopers find you, they'll mistake you for me and shoot you on site."

"They're too incompetent to find me. And you're giving away my hiding place dim-wit," snapped the boy. Robin considered the point for a second. "Get out of here!" demanded the boy urgently.

From the other end of the hall, Batman shouted, "Robin, it's too late. Get back here!"

Yes, he could make it out of the hall just before the Storm Troopers discovered him- he was the Former Talon after all- but that would leave the hallway empty. If the Storm Troopers found a hall devoid of their expected quarry, they'd no doubt perform a thorough search; and he wasn't convinced that the boy's hiding place was as well concealed as he claimed. There was only one way to protect the kid now- let the troopers spot him. If he had their attention, it would draw any eyes away from the boy in the corner.

To the horror of Batman and boy alike, Robin deliberately waited a few seconds to allow himself to be caught. His heartrate picked up as the pounding feet of the troopers mounted the last stair and white clad men flooded into the hall. He bolted after Batman's retreating figure.

"There they go!" shouted the sergeant.

"They're headed for the roof," cried another.

"Open fire!" ordered the captain.

Robin bucked and rolled, narrowly missing two sizzling blaster burns through his sternum. There was no room to maneuver in the tight hallway. Another bolt clipped his right thigh. He ran. He was good at running. Reaching the end of the hall, he vaulted up the stairs towards Batman. The Troopers were right behind him. Imbued with adrenaline and the Force, he slammed the door in his pursuer's face with such strength that it broke off the hinges. He spun around only to see the muzzle of a blaster pointed at his forehead.

"Down!" commanded a terrifying voice from above.

Robin ducked reflexively. A baterang sailed out of the shadows and knocked the gun away from the trooper's hand. Momentarily stunned, the man fell victim to one of Robin's well aimed round-house kicks to the throat and stumbled backwards into his comrades.

Two back-handsprings later, Robin was on the rooftop beside the Dark Knight and closing the trap door over the oncoming troopers. He Force-lifted a stack of broken solar panels on top of the door.

"That won't hold them long," Robin pointed out breathlessly.

Batman turned to him and glowered. "You promised to follow my lead. And obey orders."

A clanging thud came from under the trapdoor; the pile of solar panels shifted slightly as the troopers tried to follow them onto the roof.

"Maybe now isn't the best time for a lecture."

Another thud.

"Some might call what you pulled _mutiny_."

"Really? Now." Clang. "And that was _not_ mutiny. That kid was stubborn. I had to do something! You…" The troopers burst onto the rooftop. Robin looked pained. "Now look what you and your lectures got us into!"

The Dark Knight shot him a feral look. "They're right where I want them. Let's send the rest of these goons to the hospital, shall we?"

"It would be my pleasure, Boss." Robin grinned as he spun electrified escrima sticks through his fingers. "Bring it, Bucket-heads!"

A mechanically enhanced battle cry sounded from the Storm Trooper ranks. "Fire!"

* * *

 **Crime Alley, Apartment 66:**

The two Bounty Hunters watched the battle on the roof unfold on the security monitors; Slade with lax posture and steepled fingers, and Boba with sweaty fists clenched by his sides.

As the battle unfolded on the screen, they watched Robin throw his hand out, finger splayed, and Forced the Troopers to point their blasters directly into the air. He took advantage of their momentary befuddlement and launched himself into the air. Above him, Batman's cape covered the moon and blocked the glow of streetlights behind ominous wings. And then they began to fight in earnest.

Richard grinned. The last time he faced this many troopers was almost four months ago when he fled into Alvorine's black forest. Then the cold had slowed him down. Then he had left his weapons behind. Then he had been the hunted. He had been so close to loosing everything all over again. But in this moment, the tables were turned. Now he was the hunter. There was nothing to hold him back; he was free. He wasn't the Talon, but he wasn't exactly Robin either; Richard Grayson had been unleashed.

"Spectacular," breathed Slade.

Batman was a terrifying pillar of strength and vengeance. Robin was a shadowy dervish, a whirlwind of untamed destructive power. With almost choreographed synchrony, the two threw smoke pellets at the rooftop and disappeared into the curling mist. A cackling but lighthearted mocking laugh echoed off the buildings and filled the air. Storm Troopers fell left and right falling victim to the Bat's ruthless left-hooks and Robin's acrobatic mastery of martial arts.

Boba ground his teeth. "It's a pity the Storm Troopers are supposed to be on _our_ side."

"Indeed," agreed Slade. He winced as Robin wrapped his legs around the throat of one Trooper and slammed the man into the cement hard enough to crack his helmet.

"I take it back," said Boba, "the troopers are secretly working for the Batman. No one can be that inept."

Slade snorted at the comment. Then he turned curiously to Boba. "Have you learned anything by watching them?"

"Yeah. I think they might be a worthy opponent. Finally, I can have a little fun on the job," answered Boba cracking his knuckles. "What did you get out of it old man?"

Slade gave his associate a lopsided smirk. "I have learned their greatest weaknesses."

* * *

 **Crime Alley, Apartment Rooftop:**

Batman and Robin stood breathing heavily among heaps of groaning Storm Troopers. These men were not getting up any time soon. Robin whipped his escrima sticks back into their holsters and looked up at Batman. The Dark Knight was gazing skyward where the Batmobile- cloaked against the stars- hovered over their heads.

"Robin, we're heading home." Batman informed him. He shot a grappling line at the Batmobile.

Dick hesitated. "There's something I have to do first."

"What?"

"Meet you back at the Batcave."

"Robin!" called Batman, but Dick was already flying over the rooftop and down to the street below; because there _was_ something he had to do. What was the good of fighting for people when you leave them behind in mourning? Richard Grayson had red in his leger; he wanted to wipe it out. Righting wrongs is not as impossible as some people make it out to be; it starts with hope and the willingness to fight towards setting things straight. Redemption is never won easily; but the key is, that it _can_ be won.

Dick moved into the shadows of the crevasse between the apartment complex where they found the body and the adjacent building. He assumed a relaxed and non-threatening posture and waited for the black-haired boy from the hall to walk out. He didn't have long to wait.

"Was it your dad that was shot?" he asked.

The boy jumped and spun on him; his body poised for attack. Dick would have found that cute in his Talon frame of mind, because not even most adults could take him on; but now he just found it sad.

"What's it to you?" snapped the boy.

Dick stepped into the moonlight. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"Don't be," the boy scoffed, "Pop never did anything for us."

"Oh." Dick didn't know what to say.

"Yeah." The boy laughed shortly without even a hint of humor. "Now, get lost, _Talon._ I wouldn't be surprised if you had something to do with it."

"I am _not_ the Talon!"

The boy assumed an heir of defiance and power, putting his hands on his hips and staring at Dick. He had guts. "Really? You think I don't listen to the news?"

"I _was_ the Talon," Dick admitted. "But I changed. Your dad could have changed too if he had the chance."

"Nah, not Pop. Not me. Not you. Not nobody."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Bad things don't stop happening. Bad things start to make good people bad too. Those people change and adapt; it's the easiest way to survive. Just go along with whatever the bad people want and don't think about it. Pretty soon, there's only bad left and not nobody can escape it." The boy looked convinced. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes, but his face remained set in stone. Dick could recognize that face; he had worn it too often himself.

"I got out," Dick countered simply.

"Yeah? What makes you so special?" the boy scoffed.

Dick looked at him intently. "Only the fact that I seek redemption. Change never comes to people desperate to stay the same."

"Pop was desperate to stay the same." The boy deflated somewhat. "He wasn't good for nothin'. But he coulda been worse. At least he was there."

Dick put a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"I aint cry'in ya fool!" the boy snapped, but the fight had gone out of him; and if Dick had performed some Force induced mind trick on him, he wasn't aware of having done so.

"I know you're not crying," whispered Dick. "Some people get too strong for that."

"I fight it. I fight everything; hurt, bad, cry'in. I fight it all."

"Sometimes I think that's where all of us are. Fighting off the bad as best we can. Trying to become something better than we were. It's that second bit that's important."

"Yeah." The boy pushed Dick away as if suddenly remembering that he had just opened up to a total stranger. "Thank's for noticin' me, I guess. Nobody cared at all that Pop died. And nobody cared that he aint there anymore. Nobody cared what mom thought or what I thought. I guess what we think don't mean much."

Dick gave the boy a sad smile. "Well, it means something to me, Jason Todd. I'm sorry about what happened- and I know that doesn't mean much to you- but I know what it's like." He pulled out his grappling gun and shot it a nearby rooftop.

"How did you know my name?"

"I'm a detective. See you around, Jay." The grappling line began to retract.

"Wait!" Dick paused halfway up the side of the apartment building. "If you aren't the Talon, who are you?"

"Redemption." Dick gave Jason a two-fingered salute and flew the rest of the way over the rooftops. He called back over his shoulder into the night air and down to the boy on the street, "I'm Robin."

…

 _Redemption isn't about survival; it's about the renewal of a soul that was once dead. The Talon had to live and die so that Robin could rise. A thing isn't beautiful because it has never been broken; it is beautiful because the scars show how it was redeemed._

 _…_


	14. Chapter 14: Follow My Lead

**The Emperor's Talon**

 **Chapter 14: Follow My Lead**

Alfred stood at the bottom of the staircase leading into the Batcave with a tray of freshly baked cookies in his hands. The old man eagerly awaited the return of his charges; for although his status as Bruce Wayne's butler meant that he reverted to calling them by honorary titles such as 'master', to Alfred they would always be _his_ charges. Gotham City was the Batman's to guard, but Batman and now Robin were Alfred's to protect.

The faithful butler smiled when he heard the Batmobile's engines echo off the walls of the cave. A few moments later, the vehicle was within sight and settling on the landing pad. The canopy popped open and out leapt Batman. Alfred frowned a little before descending the corrugated metal staircase to the lowest level of the cave. He could see Batman frowning a little himself; of course, that was nothing out of the ordinary. Richard was nowhere to be see, which was.

"If you don't mind my asking sir, where has Master Richard gone off too?" inquired Alfred.

Batman pulled off the cowl. "He said he had something to do and took off on me. Told me to meet him back at the cave." He growled.

"Some pressing matter no doubt." Alfred chuckled at the idea of little Richard telling the Batman what to do. That boy never ceased to amaze him.

"He promised to obey orders."

"I see. He follows directions almost as well as you did at that age, sir." Alfred's lip twitched.

"Times were different then."

"That fact has been duly established," said Alfred dryly. "Times may have been different, but boys are boys. It doesn't really matter what the times are like."

"It matters a great deal! He could get himself captured or killed."

"Yet you let him run off," the old man pointed out, "you must have some faith in his skills."

"I have great confidence in his combative capabilities. The kid's shown more promise than any Padawan I grew up with, including Ahsoka Tano. But…" Bruce cut himself off before he said something revealing. "…He should listen to orders better."

Alfred put a hand on Bruce's shoulder. "Your master, Force rest his soul, and I used to discus this same problem about you. Orders were there to keep you safe and to give your master some control in dangerous situations. But he also let you test yourself. Prove yourself. For years, all Master Dick has done is follow orders- ones he didn't agree with- but now he's free. He needs to spread his wings, Bruce; Robin's are meant to fly."

Batman turned away. "Robins are meant to do what bats tell them to do."

Alfred shook his head. "Keep that attitude up, and you'll lose him."

Bruce ignored the old man and folded his arms over his chest. Robin was going to have a lot of explaining to do when he got home.

* * *

 **Streets of Gotham:**

Robin flew over the streets faster than he ever had before. Adrenaline pumped through his veins. He couldn't feel the rooftops under his feet as he ran along the cement rooftop; all he could feel was the rush of the wind, the pounding of his heart, and speed he was picking up. A smile spread across his face. He couldn't stop it. He let the hood of his cape fly off as he kept running towards the end of the roof.

Like spreading wings of tried and tested faith, Robin threw his arms out to the side and Force leapt off the tallest sky scraper in Gotham. He would never know if he was falling or flying because, while one is in the air, they are one and the same. At the last possible second, he fired a grappling-line at a nearby building and saved himself from fatal contact with the pavement. The line retracted, and he was flying back into the air once again.

Robin let out a cry of ecstasy, "YAHOO!"

He narrowly missed a collision with a redheaded girl and her father. Robin was dimly aware of the girl demanding, "daddy, what was that?" But the man's answer was lost in the roaring wind which selfishly demanded his whole attention. As he began to ascend again, the stars seemed to grow bigger. And then he was somersaulting at the peak of his line before swinging through the city once again.

Long before he wanted to, Robin found himself crouched on the rooftop of Wayne Manor. He sighed. Batman would be waiting for him. So would Alfred. They might be worried. But he just wanted to sit there on the roof; on the rooftops or in the air, he felt like he was a part of the heavens. As soon as he came down, he would have to face the fact that he was human. That he could break.

Knowing that he had to come down eventually, Robin backflipped off the roof and slipped into the cave. "Where were you?" Batman's gruff voice echoed off the walls before Robin even came fully into view.

"Flying," answered Robin.

"You were supposed to come back with me." Bruce was scowling with narrowed eyes.

Robin removed his mask and became Richard Grayson-Wayne again. "You didn't stop me."

"I shouldn't have had to. You were supposed to follow my lead."

"I did." Dick smirked. "Isn't disappearing on people one of _your_ many traits? Can't I follow that example?"

Bruce looked dumbfounded for a moment but recovered quickly. "You know what I mean. You do as you're told."

"I didn't realize that extended past the confines of the mission," Dick retorted.

"The mission _never_ ends." The two were perilously close to glaring at each other.

"Master Bruce indicated that you had something important to accomplish," Alfred put in.

Dick turned to the elderly butler as if attempting to decipher who's side the old man had taken. He decided it didn't matter. "I went back to talk to the boy in the hall," he confessed.

"Why?" demanded Bruce.

"Because he was left alone to deal with his loss and without any answers about his father's death," answered Dick. "It's a tough spot."

Bruce looked like he was caught in his own emotional web. It reminded Dick of how little they actually knew about each other. "That was an unnecessary risk to _your_ safety _and_ his."

"How?" demanded Dick.

"Whoever or whatever the empire has looking for us right now will be analyzing our every move. If they saw you and what you did for that boy, they will know how to get to you. If our theory is correct, they weren't above casually killing Willis Todd. And they won't be above using Jason as a bargaining chip against us. Sometimes the best thing we can do for people is to leave them alone," Bruce explained.

Dick looked torn inside. It felt like his heart was at war with his brain. He shook his head and gripped his hair. "I _can't_ just leave people to hurt. I can't leave them groping around for breakable threads of hope; not when I can _do_ something."

"Sometimes you have to." Bruce grabbed Dick's wrists and forced him to listen. "Don't wear your heart on your sleeve. You'll _regret_ it."

"Master Bruce, I don't think…" Alfred began.

Bruce cut him off. "I'm not being hard on him. I just explained my reasons."

"It's alright, Alfred," whispered Dick, "he has a point."

Alfred looked like he wanted to protest, but in his wisdom, decided that this was neither the time nor the place. "Indeed sirs. The topic of insubordination aside, I assume your evening was productive?"

"Fairly," answered Bruce. He released Dick's wrists and strode over to the batcomputer. "Willis Todd was killed at close range by an M-113 Micro-pulse Enforcer blaster pistol. It's the preferred close-range projectile weapon of A-list bounty hunters and mercenaries." He began typing madly.

Behind him, Dick folded his arms over his chest. "So, you're going to look up a list of class A Bounty Hunters who are known to carry M-113's? And said bounty hunter may or may not have any known affiliation with the empire? Not to be pessimistic or anything, but this seems a…dead end."

"It's our only lead," Batman pointed out. "The computer will cross-reference all bounty hunters with Micro-pulse Enforcers and imperial standing."

"How long will program take?" inquired Alfred.

"Several hours. There's a lot of data to sift through."

Dick came out of a temporary introspective trance. "Bruce?"

A grunt. "What?"

"What if there was more than one person involved with Todd's murder?" His confidence increased when he was he had Bruce's full attention. "I agree that bounty hunters should be our primary suspects- Darth Vader isn't above hiring them- but I think there was more than one."

"What makes you think so?" asked Bruce, "Bounty hunters usually prefer to work alone. They don't have the best track record where cooperation is concerned."

"I sensed two…demons…in the Force back at the apartment. I think they came back to the scene of the crime to see if we would show up."

"Then we must be extra careful," Bruce decided after a moment's thought **.** "It'll take the computer time to give us a list of names." He stood.

"Good. Then in the meantime, seeing as the sun has risen, you two can: shower, eat, rest, and get ready for Mrs. Grandfield's annual Gothamite Social Ball this evening," said Alfred. He turned and began walking over to the changing area and showers.

While the old man's back was turned, Dick and Bruce made faces of horror and disgust. They looked at each other and realized that they were both thinking the same thing. This was going to be one intolerable evening. Dick leaned towards Bruce and whispered conspiratorially, "what if we dress up protocol droids and send them in our place?"

"Alfred will see right through it," Bruce whispered back, "what if you fake an illness and I have to stay home to take care of you?"

"I can here you conspiring against me?" Alfred's voice echoed back at them from elsewhere in the cave. "Rest assured that should you attempt to pull one of your schemes, there will be no cookies or either of you for a month."

Dick's eyes were wide. Bruce looked defeated.

"How does he do that?"

"I've had years to figure it out. The answer still alludes me."


	15. Chapter 15: The Masks of High Society

**The Emperor's Talon**

 **Chapter 15: The Masks of High Society**

"Master Bruce," Alfred scolded, "what kind of example are you setting for Master Richard?"

Growling, Bruce straightened his bowtie and smoothed his blazer. "I can't stand these things," he grumbled.

"Tardiness is not only unbecoming, it is extremely rude, sir. I will not allow your habit of being- as you say- 'fashionably late', to infect the young master." Alfred grabbed the cufflinks and clipped them onto Bruce's sleeves. "You'll have to tend to your hair in the speeder."

"Dick," shouted Bruce, "we've got to get going. But if you're running behind from training, I'll wait."

Alfred shot Bruce a death glare even more potent than Batman's. Bruce almost shrunk into himself. Fortunately for him, Dick walked into the room dressed smartly in his Armani suit and assuaged Alfred's rising wrath.

"Well at least someone around here respects good manners." Alfred shot a sideways look at Bruce, "now into the Bentley; chop, chop."

"This is a suicide mission, isn't it?" whispered Dick as he tried to get comfortable with the stiff suit.

"You have no idea," Bruce answered.

Alfred ignored them.

* * *

 **Crime Alley, Apartment 66:**

One of the things that made Deathstroke one of the very best bounty hunters in the galaxy was that he never left anything to chance. He monitored everything even past what some would consider the scope of his mission. He could smell connections between his case and seeming outside events and people.

In this case, he had remembered reading about Richard Wayne, Bruce Wayne's adopted son. At the time, he had filed the article away in the back of his mind because his hunter's instincts had told him there was some connection between Richard and the Talon. Wayne was more tricky than people gave him credit for- if Slade's suspicions were correct- and he had gone public with the boy while all of Gotham was looking for Talon (the kid's alter-ego). Slade had nothing more than the striking physical similarities between Talon and Richard and the convenient timing to feed his obsessive hunches on the case, but he wasn't known for letting go of any leads no matter how intangible they appeared.

He had monitored Bruce and Richard since arriving in Gotham. Conveniently, they were going to the Grandfield ball tonight in the heart of Gotham city. Slade would be there too. And if there was a connection between Richard and the Talon, he would uncover it. He always did.

Slade looked at his reflection in the cracked bathroom mirror of the apartment he and Boba had so ruthlessly commandeered. The light fixture above flickered intermittently and the mirror was covered with finger prints and splattered polka dots of toothpaste. Slade wrinkled his forehead a little at the contrast between his expensive suit and the dingy refresher. Unrefined settings notwithstanding, he was convinced he looked the part of a snotty member of Gotham's high society.

"All you need now is a diamond encrusted eye patch," mocked Boba leaning into the bathroom doorframe.

"Perhaps you would clean up well yourself, if you ever opted to shower," responded Slade evenly.

Boba resisted the sudden impulse to smell himself and verify the accuracy of Deathstroke's jab. Instead, he settled for folding his arms across his chest. "Pass. High society fops aren't my thing."

"Posh braggards though they may be, the elite of Gotham know much and have very loose lips where threats and alcohol are concerned."

Boba waved a dismissive hand. "You enjoy your evening of hoity-toity flamboyancy, old man. I'm Batman watching tonight."

Slade pushed past his associate and prepared for his grand entrance into high society.

* * *

 **The Grandfield Gothamite Social Ball:**

Violins, harps, and a Mon-calamari piano played lightly eddying music on a raised dais at the back of the grand ballroom. Seven huge crystal chandeliers hung from brass rings on the ceiling, filling the atmosphere with bright golden light. Open glass doors lead out onto a balcony where spring air from a midnight blue sky cooled the entire room.

Mrs. Grandfield, an elderly woman with violet hair bedecked with diamonds, floated between her guests like a butterfly. "Oh Bruce!" she cried from across the room. The old woman left her guests and made a beeline for Bruce and Dick, "I am so glad you could make it!"

Bruce took her hand and kissed it. "Thank you for inviting us, Mrs. Grandfield. Your balls are always the most entertaining in Gotham."

"Oh Bruce," she laughed, "how many times must I tell you to call me Debra?"

"I'll try to remember," Bruce promised. "Debra, may I present my…son...Richard."

Dick bowed a little at the waist. "It's an honor Mrs. Grandfield." He gave her a winning smile as he had seen Bruce do a moment ago.

Debra Grandfield beamed. "Richard, you are so adorable! How old are you deary?"

"Not yet 13, mam," Dick answered.

"Oh delightful!" she exclaimed, "Commissioner Gordon brought his daughter Barbra with him tonight. She's a lovely young girl; not too much older than you, in fact. I'm sure you two will get along splendidly!"

Dick smiled politely again. "I'd love to meet her."

"Ah, and _I'd_ love a brandy and a rousing conversation with Jim," Bruce butted in.

"Well, I saw Jim Gordon over by the fondue table just a minute ago." Debra pointed in the general direction of the refreshment tables. "Mind yourself, Bruce. I'll expect one dance for old time's sake."

"Sure thing," Bruce promised as he strode over in the direction of Jim Gordon.

The police commissioner was engaged in hushed conversation with Governor Vox and Storm Trooper Captain Dane. Bruce slowed his pace and grabbed a few hors d'oeuvres from a passing waiter. He angled himself into the perfect position to inconspicuously listen in on their conversation. Dick, being as perceptive as he was, caught on to what Bruce was doing and pretended to make light small talk with his guardian to divert any attention from them.

"The Talon and the Batman beat the snot out of a squad of my troopers last night," Captain Dane was saying, "they broke into the Willis Todd crime scene."

"How could one man and a boy take out a whole squad of Imperial troops?" demanded Governor Vox. His voice was barely contained. "Darth Vader was very specific that the Talon and Batman are to be dealt with immediately!"

"I know!" snapped Captain Dane.

"Gordon, work on civilian cooperation. We need these two apprehended," Vox restated the obvious.

Gordon set his drink aside. "I can't garner public support against Batman. The people think he's some kind of hero. If I neglect civic cases to pursue the Bat, Gotham citizens will turn on us."

"Just do it, Gordon," growled Vox, "your job is on the line. Darth Vader's agents will be in Gotham soon- if they aren't here already- and we are to give them our _full_ support."

* * *

Slade Wilson stepped out of the air-taxi and straightened his lapel. He strode confidently into the Grandfield ball room. With his one good eye, he scanned the occupants of the room. Governor Vox and Captain Dane were there with the civilian police commissioner; idiots the lot of them. Near those three persons of interest, stood Bruce Wayne chatting with non-other than Slade's target for the evening. The bounty hunter grinned but didn't make a move towards the Wayne's.

Rather than showing his hand directly, he smoothly began to mingle with the other guests. Slade remained within range of Richard and Bruce, while he made small talk with two fabulously dressed women. He didn't think much of their prattling conversation, but the incessant chatter made it possible for him to blend into the crowd.

Using his brass beer mug as a mirror, Slade watched Richard talking animatedly to his guardian about something. Bruce either wasn't paying attention or just didn't care about what the kid was saying. He looked like any other 12 year-old boy Slade had ever seen, but Deathstroke knew as well as anyone not to judge a book by its cover.

Bruce waited until Governor Vox and Captain Dane had walked off before breaking free from his eves-dropping posture. He turned slightly in order to watch them leave. One glance down at Dick revealed that the boy hadn't missed a word. His face, while contemplative, was very obviously edging towards a smirk; no doubt he was pleased with himself for having beaten so many Storm Troopers to a pulp. Bruce rolled his eyes. He put a hand on Dick's shoulder and steered him towards Gordon.

* * *

"Bruce!" exclaimed the Commissioner. "Thank the Force for some good company!"

"Hello, Jim," laughed Bruce, "you remember Dick, don't you?"

"Of course! It's good to see you again young man."

"Likewise, commissioner," beamed Dick. They shook hands.

"There's someone I'd like you to meet," said Gordon. He called over his shoulder, "Barbra!...Barb! Come over here!"

A moment later, a Barbra Gordon came striding into view. Dick was instantly mesmerized by her. Her curly red hair was pinned into a lazy bun on the back of her head with ivory rose pins. Even for a young girl, she looked elegant and refined in a simple violet dress. Dick hadn't thought much of glasses until now, but on her, they looked classy-cute. However, what he liked most about this girl was her brilliant smile and the plate she carried heaped unabashedly high with cakes and chocolates.

"Barb!" cried Gordon, "you don't need that much sugar."

"Come on, daddy; I have to get through the evening somehow," Barbra argued.

Gordon rolled his eyes and Bruce laughed. "Honey, I'd like you to meet Bruce's adopted son, Richard."

Barbra smiled at Dick and held out a hand. "Hi! I'm Barbra, but dad calls me Barb."

"I'm Richard, but mostly, I go by Dick." He took her hand and shook it.

"Cake?" Barbra held out her plate of confectionary masterpieces.

Dick took a small one off the top. "Thanks."

"No problem. It's going to be so much better now that I'm not by myself with all the grown-ups."

"I take it small talk with people mostly interested in gossip, business, and politics isn't really your thing," laughed Dick.

Barbra made a face. "Goodness no!"

In agreement on that much, the two began to talk in earnest about the things they liked to do or the places they'd been. Dick hadn't grown up with other children and found all of Barbra's stories about school and her ballet classes captivating. He couldn't tell her much about his own life for obvious reasons, but that was perfectly fine because Barbra could easily carry on the conversation alone.

From across the room, Slade Wilson watched as Richard Wayne walked away from his guardian and Commissioner Gordon with a young girl somewhere around his own age. How cute. They were bonding over how much they detested social functions such as this ball. Well, Slade could sympathize with the children there, these things were rather tedious.

Now was his chance to move. He began working his way towards the two kids. A few more steps, and he was a step ahead of Barbra. While the young girl wasn't paying him any mind, Slade deliberately tripped a waiter carrying a flaming pie right beside her.

The unfortunate waiter lost his balance completely and fell sideways into Barbra. His arms flailed in a fruitless attempt to break his fall and the flaming pie was thrown into the air. Slade watched intently as the events of the next few seconds unfolded. Dick launched reflexively into action. He grabbed Barbra even as she fell with one arm and swung her out of the way of the waiter and the falling pie. With the other hand, he caught the flaming pie a split second before it fell on the waiter's face. Had he not, the poor man would have lit up like a human torch as the flames caught on the alcohol pooling around his fallen form.

Slade stepped forward clapping. His orchestrated mishap had revealed that Richard Wayne possessed faster than human reflexes if nothing else. The kid was still supporting Barbra around the waist with one arm and holding the pie with the other. The three unfortunate victims of Slade's experiment remained stunned motionless for another second. Slade's suspicions were rising. It was the feeling he got as a hunter when he was hot on the trail of his prey.

"Good reflexes, kid," he congratulated.

Dick glared at him. He shoved the flaming pie into Slade's hand while he pulled the waiter back to his feet.

"How'd you learn to move so fast?" Slade pressed.

"Idiots who don't watch where they are going give me plenty of practice," answered Richard evenly.

Slade snorted. The kid was feisty. Adorable really. "Are you sure you didn't learn them from the Empire? Or maybe the Court of Owls?"

Panic flickered across Dick's face for a fraction of a second. But Slade caught it. "You're babbling about legends; myths really."

"Perhaps I am," laughed Slade. He knew he controlled the tension in the air and he reveled in the power. "You'll have to educate me some time."

"That I will. I'm sure you could use a lesson in manners," Dick almost growled.

"Ah yes," Slade agreed, "my apologies sir. And to you, young miss. I suppose I have had a bit much to drink." He pushed his way back through the crowd that had gathered around the accident. He had left Dick in quite the spot. While most of the conversation had been cryptic and quietly spoken before the crowd gathered, he was sure the kid was feeling desperate and terrified. That was exactly what he had been hoping for. He'd just spooked the boy. Now Richard's head wasn't in the game. Now he would make mistakes.

"We're all fine," Barbra assured their audience. "Isn't this a party?"

The adults laughed and went back to their drinking, gossiping, and dancing.

"You ok?" asked Barbra.

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?" Dick answered.

"Something that man said seems to have you worried."

"It's nothing. It's just the adrenaline leaving my body." He laughed. "I couldn't bear the sight of your dress going up in flames; even if it would have made a good story afterwards."

Barbra laughed again. Her eyes glittered like emeralds in the light of the crystal chandeliers as she watched the older men and women on the dance floor. Unlike Dick, she could appreciate the flowing gowns as ladies glided on the arms of their men; the hems of their dresses kissing the polished floor only to be swept up once again like kites in the wind.

"Let's dance," she suggested bouncing a little on her toes.

Dick looked dubious at best. "But…I don't know how."

"That's ok," Barbra encouraged grabbing his hand, " _I'll l_ ead." She dragged him out onto the dance floor.

"I don't know about this." Dick's eyes darted around looking at the other elegant couples.

"It's easy. I'll count it out at first, so you can follow the music. Ready?" She didn't wait for him to so much as nod in agreement. She took his hand in hers and put the other on the small of his back. "Now you put your hand on my shoulder," she instructed.

"But…"

Barbra grabbed his wrist and put his hand on her shoulder. They started to move. Dick was stiff at first; neither Darth Vader nor Batman had given any consideration to the fact that their "apprentice", for lack of a better term, would ever need to learn how to dance. He kept having to look down to make sure he wasn't stepping on Barbra's foot. It was embarrassing. But fortunately for Dick, he was a fast learner; and half way through the dance they were gliding over the floor almost as well as the grownups.

After a few more minutes, Dick stopped. "We're doing it wrong," he pointed out.

"No, we aren't," Barbra protested, "you're learning better than I thought you would."

"We're doing it wrong," he repeated. Dick stepped back and bowed a little at the waist. "May I have this dance?"

Barbra laughed. "Of course, you dork!"

Dick offered his hand with a cocky grin on his lips and explosive laughter in his eyes. Barbra took the offered hand and they began to dance once more. No more counting. No more ridged steps. They moved like sprites through a forest in high summer; laughing, joking, and then stepping on each other's toes when they became giddy. Finally, they were just gripping each other's wrists for dear life and spinning as fast as they dared before flinging themselves into the chairs against the back wall.

Jim Gordon laughed as he watched them and meandered over towards Bruce. "Kid's a chip off the old block, eh?"

Bruce grinned. "Why? Because he can't dance so he has to let the lady lead?"

"Well, there's that," Gordon laughed. "But I meant that he's charming. Watch that you teach him right or he'll be a handful as a teenager."

Bruce's smile faltered a little. Teenager? What was he going to do with Dick then? He honestly hadn't thought that far ahead. It was the first time he really considered raising a child, raising Dick Grayson, and not simply training a partner crime fighter. But he recovered from his momentary shock in time to give Gordon a light smile. "Likewise. Barbra's a hand full already. Weren't you watching? She _dragged_ him onto the floor."

"I _suppose_ I must have words with her." Gordon rolled his eyes sarcastically.

"Ah yes. We must sit them down and tell them no fraternizing until they're 50," joked Bruce.

A deep laugh. "I'll drink to that." They grabbed glasses of Noobian wine from a passing waiter. "Barbra's going to Gotham Middle School. You enrolled Dick anywhere yet?"

Bruce shook his head. "Ah, no…it hadn't crossed my mind."

"Oh Bruce," Gordon sounded long suffering, "you gotta put the kid in school. It'll be good for him, and it'll probably make things easier on Alfred too."

"I'll look into it. Excuse me for a moment, Jim."

Bruce strode over to their hostess. He had seen the incident with the pie. The man who had appeared to be pressuring Dick for something looked familiar. Bruce's detective mind was working a mile a minute, but he wasn't coming up with any names he could match to the face. It was like having an itch he couldn't quite scratch.

"Bruce! Have you come for your dance?" asked Mrs. Grandfield.

"I have indeed. Debra, will you do me the honor?" Bruce bowed.

They walked out onto the dance floor. As they danced, Bruce asked, "who is the man with the eye patch?"

Mrs. Grandfield looked indifferent. "I'm not sure. I didn't invite him. I think one of my girls brought him along as a plus one; they love to try to show each other up by bringing the most interesting dates."

"I see," said Bruce. While he didn't have a name, he did have a substantial clue. He might be once step closer to figuring out who was after Batman and Robin.

* * *

 **Apartment 66, Crime Alley:**

Boba Fett was reclining in the monitor chair with a takeout order of Big Belly Burger when Slade returned from the evening's excursion. "How did it go, old man? Get anything useful out of those stuck-up Gothamites?"

"Nothing so relevant as I had hoped," answered Slade, "Governor Vox and the Storm Trooper Captain were there. They are completely incompetent; so, it looks like we're on our own."

"Well don't feel too bad. Even you can't be right all the time," said Boba, trying to rub salt into the perceived wound of Slade's apparent failure of an evening.

"I never said any one man is infallible, "Slade pointed out. "Testing and retesting are the only way we will know that we have all of our facts straight. Rely on yourself, but test yourself. You cannot take any lead for granted, nor can you afford to turn one away."

Boba sneered. "You're not going to save face with a lecture. Not tonight."

Slade ignored him. He walked into the bedroom and began pulling off his suit jacket. There was no way in the Galaxy he was going to tell his associate what he had really learned. Richard Grayson-Wayne, the Talon, was his.

* * *

 _ **Author's Note:** To those whom it may concern, (mostly just two people, lol) I'm going into midterm and project season, so this will be the last chapter for a while. I hope you are all enjoying the story. Thanks for your time. _


	16. Chapter 16: Battle of Intel

**The Emperor's Talon**

 **Chapter 16: Battle of Intel**

Batman's fingers flew over the computer keys. Something about the man at the Grandfield ball was obviously wrong. He'd seen the way the man watched Richard Grayson surreptitiously during the party; stealing glances whenever possible, stalking the young boy like a lion, and all the while thinking he was being subtle. Subtle Batman's ass! Nothing slipped past his observation. Even if his human radar was not alerted by any given potential threat, the Force alerted him.

He pulled up the security tapes of the ball. There. A perfect clip of the man's face. Batman zeroed in on the footage and enlarged the face. "Computer, run facial recognition software," Batman demanded.

"Acknowledged," answered the feminine computerized voice, "running software."

On a hunch, he added, "run the face from the security feed against all known A-list bounty hunters."

"Yes sir. Run is 2 percent complete."

Batman leaned back in his chair as the computer ran its course. He eyed the exercise equipment, considering a quick workout to get his mind back under control. He decided against it. After what felt like a few minutes, but was really hours, the computer chimed. "Cross-reference scan of known A-list bounty hunters and imperial standing, complete."

Bruce looked at the batcomputer's readout from the program he ran before they left for the party. A list of top notch bounty hunters known to favor M-113 Micro-pulse blaster pistols cross refenced with Imperial standing appeared on the screen. A few names caught his attention: Ebba Koth, Bane, Snake, and Boba Fett.

"Any luck with the computer?" asked a young voice behind him.

Bruce turned around to see Dick Grayson tugging off his suit jacket, his tie already hung slovenly over his shoulders in the way Alfred always said was reminiscent of a hobo.

Batman ran a tired hand down his face. "You're supposed to be in bed."

"I couldn't sleep. Beside, I've noticed you don't often follow your own advice," retorted Dick.

"I'm Batman. I don't need sleep."

Dick snorted. He leaned over the back of Batman's chair to look at the list of bounty hunters known to favor a M-113 Micro-pulse blaster. "Stang," he cursed, "why didn't I think of that sooner?"

Batman turned to look at him. "What?"

"Boba Fett," answered Dick, "he's worked for Darth Vader once before. He's good. Didn't fail the mission, but got himself into a heap of trouble getting it done."

Batman picked up on the incident Dick was referring to immediately. "The bombing of the Noobian Embassy on Raxis Prime."

Dick nodded.

Batman sighed. "He's not the only one after us."

Dick nodded again. "The man at the ball."

An affirmative grunt.

Dick chewed his lower lip. It looked like hundreds of confusing emotions had taken over him and were all bubbling to the forefront of his mind. Then, as suddenly as the emotions had appeared on his face, they disappeared behind a carefully constructed mask. Batman had already learned to watch out for that particular blankness on Richard's face; it always signaled the return of some of his previous training with the Court of Owls.

"What are you thinking?" prodded Batman.

"I…"

Dick was interrupted by the computer. "Sir, the facial recognition software run is complete."

"Report," ordered Batman sitting up straighter in the chair.

"Affirmative," answered the computer. The picture of the man at the ball who had harassed Dick and Barbra appeared alongside a picture of Slade Wilson from his Bounty Hunter profile. "The security image is a 99.8 percent match for Slade Wilson AKA. Deathstroke. Species: human male. Occupation: bounty hunter, assassin, and freelance mercenary. Service: active. Current employer un-known."

Batman stroked his chin before attacking the computer keyboard again. He pulled up an image of Boba Fett alongside the image of Slade Wilson. "They're individual reputations are too good for them to have teamed up against us."

"Well, let's put together everything we know," Dick suggested.

"We know the Empire wants us both dead. And that the entire planetary security of Alvorine is currently looking for us. We also know that there is another more illusive force helping the Storm Troopers," said Batman.

"And we've deduced that Darth Vader is behind the hunt, if the Empire is running true to form. He isn't above hiring bounty hunters- but he only goes with the very best. From experience, I've learned that he never does anything halfway. Usually, his methods are overkill."

Batman looked at him intently. "So, what you're getting at is that Darth Vader could very well have hired two of the best bounty hunters in the galaxy to kill us."

"Or bring us back to him alive, whichever happens to work out," Dick finished. "It's not unlikely."

* * *

 **Crime Alley: Apartment 66:**

A blue Holo-gram image of Darth Vader appeared in the middle of the dark apartment. The image, nearly life sized, flickered and buzzed as the Dark Lord of the Sith glared at his hired instruments of death. Or at least, Boba thought the man was glaring at them. It was hard to tell what was going on inside the head behind the bucket mask. However, whether the man was glaring at him or not, Boba was currently leaning casually against the back wall fiddling with the baster that had killed Willis Todd. A look to his left confirmed that his associate wasn't any more deferential towards their employer. Slade Wilson, arms crossed, looked unconcerned.

"The Emperor requires a progress report," said Vader.

Boba knew better than to offer a smart retort. But it was _so_ tempting. Vader's mask and breathing apparatus alone gave him plenty of material to work with. Fortunately, Slade saved him from having to answer the dark lord.

"We have discovered that the Talon is now using the alias Robin and has teamed up with the Bat. They work together like a well-oiled machine already," said Slade.

"What is new about this information?" demanded Vader.

Deathstroke didn't so much as flinch. "They have a code of conduct which can easily be exploited. Batman's principals prohibit him, and by extension Robin, from killing any sentient being. They're crime fighters not soldiers. Robin, in particular has a heart for…victims or the oppressed."

Darth Vader didn't visibly respond to this information. "And how do you plan to use this information?"

"Such principals make ensnaring anyone a simple matter," Slade offered. His words were suggestive, his posture unmoving, his voice like the devil's.

"Do you have any idea regarding the bait for your trap?"

"As a matter of fact, I have two ideas."

Vader nodded. "I will relay your message to the Emperor. Results better not be long in coming."

Slade smiled. "Rest assured, the days of the Talon and the Bat are numbered."

* * *

 **Wayne Manor: Gotham City:**

It was now 4:00 in the morning. Batman removed his cowl and laid it on the back of the computer chair. If Dick was right and both Boba Fett and Deathroke had been sent after them, then things were even more dangerous than he had initially thought. The fact the Deathstroke had been stalking Richard Grayson-Wayne at the ball and had hinted that he knew about the Talon, did nothing to easy his already fraying nerves. True, it could have been a ruse, but Batman hadn't made it this far by being complacent. No. he took suspicions like that as absolute fact. It kept him alive.

Batman, now Bruce Wayne, dragged a tired hand down his face. He could imagine puffy red rims under his eyes. He nearly jumped when Alfred materialized behind him. "You heard everything," he stated. It wasn't a question.

"Indeed sir," answered the old butler, "the acoustics in this cave are amazing. By the way sir, your laundry is done."

Bruce ignored the laundry comment. "Somehow Deathstroke figured out Dick's secret identity."

"You've dealt with this sort of thing before," Alfred pointed out. Bruce remained silent. "It's different this time, isn't it?"

"I'm afraid I'm going to lose him. I can't keep him down here in the cave anymore. Like you said, he needs a life, but there are things out there…"Bruce stopped midway through his confession, "it's too dangerous."

Alfred nodded knowingly. "A master's role is a confusing one."

"You should have seen him at the ball," Bruce continued, "he met Jim Gordon's little girl. I've never seen two children look so happy. Not since before the Clone Wars started. I can't keep him here even to protect him."

"You've come along way from wanting to imprison him for being the Talon," Alfred pointed out.

The two looked over at Dick who had, against his will, fallen asleep in the chair beside Bruce. He was curled into a little ball with his chin resting on his knees. Thick girlish eyelashes fluttered against snowy cheeks in a manner reminiscent of that first night Batman had dragged a frozen child assassin into the Batcave. Bruce draped Batman's cape over the small shoulders. Dick barely seemed to register the weight of the cape around him. "What do I do with him, Alfred?"

"Keep living your life as Bruce Wayne and keep letting him live his life as Richard Grayson. There's nothing else you can do. Yes, be cautious, but more people will get suspicious if you don't keep acting like functioning members of society."

Alfred had a good point, Bruce conceded. "Jim told me I had to put him in school."

"I think that would be wise," Alfred agreed. "In the meantime, sir, you should go upstairs and get a few hours of shuteye before work." Without another word, Bruce lifted Dick into his arms and prepared to carry him upstairs. Alfred wisely kept his mouth shut.

* * *

 _AN: Hope you're following the story well enough. Stay tuned, the first showdown between Dick Grayson and Deathstroke is afoot._ _As always, your thought and input is appreciated. Thanks for reading._


	17. Chapter 17: The First Move

**The Emperor's Talon**

 **Chapter 17: The First Move**

Two days had passed since Batman and Robin had deduced their likely assailants. But while it was still fresh in their minds, the dynamic duo- for so Alfred had taken to calling them- determined to compartmentalize and continue living their civilian lives as if nothing were amis. Bruce had more reservations about the situation than Dick did, that was nothing out of the ordinary. For his part, the former Talon was quietly elated by the prospect of going to school. The overwhelming excitement far outweighed any trepidation he might have felt regarding his own personal safety.

And so the morning began. Dick tossed his data pad and Holoreader into his bag and tugged on a pair of loose combat boots. The tunic that was his new uniform was stiff and rough. The boots weren't the school's preferred footwear, but by the Force, some part of him was going to be comfortable. Tugging the bag over his shoulder, Dick took one final look in the mirror before heading downstairs.

As per usual, Alfred was already up and about cooking breakfast. The scent of fresh bread and Ithorian star fruit jam wafted through the house. Dick took a moment to wonder how he had ever lived without Alfred's cooking. If the Emperor ever discovered the man, he'd be enslaved as the new imperial chef. And while that was far from a pleasant thought, Dick chuckled internally. He reflected that he could be possessed of a rather dark sense of humor at times but decided not to dwell on it. People, even former assassins, we're entitled to their own peculiar coping mechanisms.

"Good morning, Alf," he greeted.

"Good morning Master Dick," responded the old man. His eyes twinkled. "I trust you're ready for today."

"You bet!" Dick smiled as Alfred set a plate of scrambled eggs, fresh toast, and Starfriut jam before him. "Thank you, Alfred."

Bruce Wayne walked into the kitchen a moment later. He looked at Dick's uniform appraisingly. He nodded. "Remember to protect your identity from everyone. No one must make the connection between you and Robin."

Dick quirked an eyebrow. "Has the Batman assumed a new guise under the alias Captain Obvious?"

Bruce let out a low growl. "I'm not playing games, Richard."

"I would not test him about this, Master Dick," Alfred cautioned, "it wasn't an easy decision to let you go to a normal school."

"I know," Dick retorted, but not with any ire, "don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

Bruce nodded again. "Alfred will drive you to and from school. You will remain at school the entire time, and you will keep your commlink open."

"Understood," answered Dick. He did know when to take things seriously.

Satisfied that he had been heard, Bruce looked a little less tense. "Good. I'll see you this evening. I might have a fix on Deathstroke's headquarters here in Gotham." With that, Bruce grabbed a mug of hot caff and headed for his speeder and the Wayne Enterprises towering skyscraper. Fifteen minutes later, Dick and Alfred were headed for school.

Dick didn't know what to expect when the sleek Bentley pulled up in front of Gotham academy. Alfred parked the speeder at the curb. Dick, true to form, didn't wait for Alfred to open the door for him. Instead, he stepped out onto the cement and scanned the faces of the students and teachers. Dick had seen schools from the top of buildings at night, and sometimes during the day longing to run headlong inside with kids his own age. He smiled.

Looking through the faces, he caught sight of a girl with red hair and green eyes. "Barbra?!" he called.

The girl turned to face him full on and their eyes locked. "Dick? Oh my god, it's you! I didn't know you were coming to school here."

"I didn't know _you_ went here," Dick intoned. He grabbed his bag and ran towards her.

Behind them, Alfred smiled to himself. They had made the right choice putting Dick in school. He had seen the boy's eyes shining in anticipation. And he'd seen the fireworks of joy spark deep within Dick's heart when he recognized Barbra. Chuckling, Alfred drove away. It had been his idea to keep the fact that Barbra went to Gotham Academy a secret from Dick as a surprise. It had been a marvelous success in his opinion.

* * *

 **Crime Alley: Apartment 66:**

Having just run a sort of criminal-kid-napping errand for Deathstroke, Boba Fett was ready to murder someone. Anyone. He had effectively been reduced to the subordinate of his admittedly wiser associate- hardly privy to the details of Slade Wilson's master plan- and itching to vent his anger on someone. He knew the general idea of the plan involved baiting the Talon by kidnapping two of the kid's friends, but that was the extent of his knowledge. How Deathstroke had discovered who the Talon's friends were, he still found baffling. It would have been nice to know the Talon's true identity- some real name or something- but the Empire and- reputedly the Court of Owls- were so good at stripping away individual identities, that Boba doubted even the Talon knew who he really was.

But he was getting sidetracked. Boba had reentered the apartment with one objective: to complain. Or to kill Slade, whichever worked out.

"I got him," Boba stated.

"He's a ten-year-old boy. I should think you incapable if you failed," Slade responded.

Boba growled. "He's locked up for safe keeping. But I am _not_ going to baby-sit."

Slade looked up from the computer monitor Cooley. "Oh?"

"The kid's intolerable," Boba complained.

"Then you have something in common," Slade responded without missing a beat, "perhaps you two can bond over it."

"I would _so_ like to put a bullet through that big head of yours," growled Boba.

Slade only raised an eyebrow. "Even splattered on the wall, my brain would be more functional than yours. Shut up and get ready for phase two."

Boba threw a punch at his associate. Realizing that this could escalate into a full on battle, Slade allowed his hot-headed associate to land the punch. There would be plenty of time for revenge later and Slade Wilson had a _long_ memory. For now though, Fett needed to let off some steam. Unfortunately, they still had a job to do. Otherwise, Deathstroke would be more than willing to plunge his katana into Fett's stomach up to the hilt. Heck, it would probably do them both some good in a twisted sort of way.

"If you're finished acting like a two-year-old, we should get back down to business." Slade picked himself off the floor in a very dignified manner. He oozed authority and superiority even during the most embarrassing of circumstances. It was _so_ aggravating.

Boba wanted to curse the man to hell and back. But he settled for getting more information out of him instead. "What is phase two?"

"That, my dear Fett, is all up to you."

"Me? You're not going to tell me what to do any-more?" Boba didn't wait for Slade to answer the rhetorical question. "Pht, like that would ever happen."

True to form, Slade ignored the comment. "You're going to set up the Batman Trap in the Wayne Enterprises office complex. Take the whole building hostage. Set booby-traps, explosives, cause as much death and destruction as you want- I really don't care. Just wait till my signal before you get the Bat's attention."

Boba liked that plan, but..., "what will you be doing?"

"I'm going to pick up some more Talon bait at Gotham Academy," answered Slade, "I'll join you at Wayne Tech when my mission is complete."

* * *

 **Gotham Academy:**

It was now nearly one O'clock in the afternoon. Dick and Barbra strolled through the hall more or less alone. Everyone else was either in class or in the library. Barbra had somehow managed to get the teacher give her a hall pass to get some books from her locker at the same time Dick was excused to go to the restroom. And so it was that the two friends ended up alone in the hall chatting.

"And I thought _I_ was a nerd!" Barbra was saying.

Dick just laughed. "I like to read," he defended himself.

"You're like a breathing calculator-slash-encyclopedia," she teased.

"And you're _what_ exactly?" Dick shot back, grinning.

"I," said Barbra feigning offence, "am a strong independent woman!"

Dick rolled his eyes dramatically. " _Oh_ I see how it is."

"Very perceptive" congratulated Barbra.

Dick laughed again. "Hey, I'm going to go to the restroom. I'll catch up with you in a few."

"Ok. I'm going to go get those books."

With that, the two parted ways. Barbra continued walking down the tiled hall towards her locker. When she turned the corner at the end, she nearly ran into a masked man. The man, faceless behind an orange and black mask, was tall and muscular. He was armed to the teeth with long-blades, knives, blasters, and other gadgets. Barbra felt a twinge of unexplainable recognition shoot through her; though whether she was recognizing something in the man or something about imminent death, she wasn't sure.

"Good afternoon, Miss Gordon." The voice was hard and sinister. The inflection charming. The result terrifying.

"Who are you?" Barbra managed to ask.

"Call me Deathstroke," the man answered. "There's a little something I need your help with, so if you come along quietly, I won't have to resort to…unpleasant methods."

Barbra stated backing away from him. "You've got the wrong girl. I'm Stephanie. Stephanie Brown."

"You're quick on your feet," Deathstoke mused. "Impressive. Most girls would freeze up and stop thinking."

"You haven't seen anything yet," Barbra declared. Having reached into her pocket for the taser gun her father made her carry, Barbra shot the bounty hunter four times before bolting down the hall. "Help!" she screamed, "someone help!"

"Damn bitch!" grumbled Deathstroke as he pulled himself together. He'd underestimated the girl. Having regained his dignity and footing, he started after her. It took him effectively two long swift strides to catch up with her. It wasn't too difficult from there to grab and restrain her. He clamped a hand over her mouth to suppress her cries for help. Tucking her securely against his side, Deathstroke made a move to jump through the glass window and into his waiting speeder. Despite the unplanned for factor- he never would have guessed Barbra to put up a fight- he thought his plan had succeeded without complication; as it should. However, he soon came to regret the lack of attention he had given the plan when he realized Barbra's cries for help had not gone unanswered.

"Hold it right there Deathstroke," ordered a young voice.

Despite himself, the bounty hunter froze in surprise. He hadn't known the Talon would be attending Gotham Academy. Regaining his composure quickly thereafter, he turned to face the speaker. "Hello again, Richard," he said calmly.

"Put her down." The words came out controlled and commanding; broken up by almost theatrical pauses.

In his head, the hunter calculated switching targets. The Talon was unarmed. Deathstroke would have little to no problem kidnapping the boy under these circumstances. And he already had Barbra in his clutches. He could easily skip a step and use Richard to bait the Bat. But even the few moments of indecision it took for him to formulate the new plot were enough for Barbra and Dick to take advantage of. Deathstroke was again made painfully aware of the fact that he had underestimated his target.

Taking advantage of her captor's momentary distraction, Barbra slipped a knife out of it's sheath on Deathstroke's thigh. She clamped her teeth down on the hand covering her mouth even as she jammed the knife into the back of his knee. She landed with a thud at his feet as he let go of her in surprise. And that was all the time Dick Grayson needed to launch into action.

"Damnit!" cursed Deathstroke.

Dick sprinted forward. Using his momentum and the Force, he slid effortlessly to the ground and sailed along the polished tiles towards Barbra. Reaching her, he shoved her out of the way a split second before Deathstroke's boot came down on her head. Now clear of her captor, Barbra took a moment to breath.

"Damnit!" Deathstroke repeated.

The skirmish and Barbra's screams had alerted the school. While the other teachers and students remained in the class rooms, the school went into lock down. Red lights began to flash, and an alarm bell rang through the halls. The school's meager security team would be there in minutes. And minutes later, so would the GCPD. Deathstoke did not want to take credit for any of the happenings in Gotham just yet. He'd have to work fast.

Ripping the knife out of his leg, he made a mad grab at Dick. He wasn't fast enough. Dick ducked under his arms and rolled to the side. Then he felt some invisible force pushing him back. He lifted off the ground and flew into a set of lockers. Damn. He'd forgotten that the Talon was Force sensitive. This was not his day.

It was time to play dirty. Deathstroke pulled out a precision blaster. "Fine, let's fight," he growled.

"Barbra, run!" shouted Dick.

"Won't do her any good, boy," hissed Deathstroke. He pulled the trigger. Two shots went wild into the lockers- again- courtesy of the Force and one Richard Grayson. But the third shot sizzled past Barbra's face. She froze, wide eyed.

"Run!" Dick repeated.

She didn't move. Deathstroke fired another shot. The blaster bolt exploded forward unerringly towards her. Faster than thought, Dick pushed Barbra out of the way with the Force, but not quite far enough. The bolt clipped her arm rather than burning through her heart.

"Babs, get out of here!" screamed Dick.

"No," she snapped firmly.

Deathstroke had gotten of his behind and pushed himself away from the lockers. The fierce bounty hunter stalked towards them. Nothing in his stride nor the faceless mask showed any indication that the man had just been stabbed in the leg.

"Go!" Dick urged.

Barbra didn't move. "I'm not leaving you alone with _him!_ " she declared.

"Very loyal my dear," leered the advancing bounty hunter, "and very foolish."

"Don't you touch her!" Dick growled.

"One of you is coming with me," Deathstroke declared drawing forth a katana, "and I'm not picky on _how_ it happens!" He lunged.

In shear bloody-minded terror, Dick let go of all the walls between himself and Robin. Even as Deathstroke brought the katana down hard towards him, Dick dashed for the opposite wall. With the Force, he shoved Barbra away from himself and Deathstroke, towards the window. Then, seconds before the steel weapon cleaved a gash in his shoulder, Dick ran up along the fall wall, pushed off, and backflipped over the man's head. Catching sight of a grenade on the bounty hunter's belt mid-air, Dick pulled the pin. He landed behind the man in a crouch and held up the pin for the man's inspection.

"Loose something, Death-breath?" teased Dick.

Unalarmed, Deathstroke removed the active grenade from his belt and threw it in Dick's direction. Dick held the grenade between them, suspended in the Force. It detonated. The school hallway blew apart. Dick and Deathstroke were thrown into opposite walls. Barbra screamed. She ducked as the explosion shattered the glass window behind her. The sound was unbearable. Then, silence.

The din of the explosion left their ears ringing. Debris fell in slow motion from the ceiling. Shards of glass gleamed on the floor. Small fires burned slowly in corners or around the bases of the lockers. The three stayed still for a moment. Then, over the pounding in their heads and hearts, they could hear the footfalls of the oncoming school security team and the police.

Deathstroke was the first to move. He strode towards Dick who was slowly regaining his feet. Then, as the police began firing at him, Deathstroke changed plans again. He leaped for the open window, grabbing Barbra as he did so, in one smooth motion. Dick rushed to the window and looked out. He was too late. The bounty hunter's speeder was already shooting into the distance.

"Stang," Dick cursed.


	18. Chapter 18: No Other Choice

**The Emperor's Talon**

 **Chapter 18: No Other Option**

The school's security team and the GCPD response force stopped firing when it became clear that the Bounty Hunter was out of range. Jim Gordon stood dumbfounded at the blown out window as he watched Deathstroke drive away with his daughter. "NO!" he screamed. He slammed his fist against the wall beside the window several times.

"Sir?!" called a strong voice with a heavy accent.

Gordon whirled on Chief O'Hara, "I want every available man tracking down the kidnapper. Sargant Panaka, call up the Storm Trooper garrison and get their useless white butts moving. Let go people!"

The GCPD sprang into action once again. Several cop-speeders began streaking towards the bounty hunter's trajectory into Gotham's sky traffic lanes. Others were on com-links and requesting the Storm Trooper's involvement. And still others began taping off the hallway as a crime scene. The school's security force was already in motion and ushering students and teachers out of the class rooms. Meanwhile, Jim Gordon stood frozen in the middle of the hall staring blankly at the charred remains of the lockers.

"We're working on the kidnapper's location, sir," said O'Hara, "we traced 'im as far as Crime Alley before 'e engaged some new-fangled cloaking device on his speeder."

"Keep working on it chief," ordered Gordon, "don't stop until Barbra's back where she belongs."

"The kidnapper's name is Slade Wilson, otherwise known as Deathstroke," said Dick from the corner. One of the MD's of initial response team was quietly dabbing at a deep gash in his arm. "He said he needed Barb's help with something."

Gordon and O'Hara turned around as they came to the realization that they had forgotten that Dick had been there when Barbra was taken. Gordon felt like he had forgotten how a police commissioner was supposed to act as soon as Barbra was taken. He had been trying to act professional, but he knew that the second he had a chance, he would break down into a hysterical parent. Seeing Dick sitting there- baring the scars of the encounter- reminded him that there was more to his job than running around like a chicken with its head cut off demanding that someone bring back his daughter. But as soon as those thoughts crossed his mind, fear for his daughter returned. This boy had seen everything; surely Dick would have some information that would help him find Barbra.

With these new thoughts in mind, Gordon strode over to the corner and gripped the boy by the shoulders. "Dick, can you tell us what happened? Remember everything you can; it might help us find Barbra!"

"The man was a bounty hunter. He said something about needing Barbra's help. He said that one of us was coming with him; he didn't care how, and he didn't care who," answered Dick.

"How'd ya know 'is name was Deathstroke and that 'e's a bounty 'unter?" demanded O'Hara.

"Because he said so," snapped Dick.

"Good enough for me," said O'Hara holding his hands up defensively.

Gordon gave the police chief a wild and displeased look for interrupting the interrogation. "Dick please, try to think…where would he be taking her? Why dose he need her? Did he hurt her? Was she badly injured in the explosion? Oh, god! I can't…" His hands were shaking as he continued to hold Dick by the shoulders.

"She wasn't hurt in the explosion. Stunned: but I don't think she was badly injured," answered Dick.

"Why did he take her?! Where did he take my little girl?!" Gordon had almost lost control of his voice. Desperation, worry, and grief had all but taken over his senses.

"I don't know sir," Dick answered honestly.

Gordon didn't register the honest pain in the blue eyes staring at him. He gripped Dick's arms tighter. "Where did he _taker_ her?!" he cried.

"I don't _know_!" screamed Dick in the hopes of getting through to the man. It did no good.

"Why would he take _her? Why would he take my Barbara?_!" Gordon barely registered the near teary-eyed boy in front of him or the blood seeping through his fingers or the medic trying gently but firmly the pry his hands off of Dick's biceps. "He should have taken someone else!" he cried.

"I know. I wish he took me instead!" cried Dick.

"Commissioner let go!" shouted the medic, "You're hurting the boy!"

"Jim, we're going to find her, but you 'ave to keep your 'ead on straight, see? Barbra's gonna be all good, if 'er father just does 'is job to find 'er," O'Hara called from behind him. The burly Scott took hold of his boss's shoulders and began to tug him away.

"Let go of me, chief! What do you think you're doing?!" demanded Gordon.

At that moment, a figure clad all in black blocked out the sun streaming through the broken window. It landed sure footed on the tiled floor accompanied by the sound of crushing glass under heavy boots. The figure stood tall- silhouette in a black cape- and commanding everyone's full attention. O'Hara and the medic let their mouths fall open slightly.

Batman strode over to the commissioner. "Get ahold of yourself, Gordon. Barbra needs you to be strong. Take charge and find your daughter."

"How did you…?" Gordon began. To say he was shocked to see the Batman- his occasional source of information and secret part-time associate- would be an understatement.

"I'm Batman," came the inevitable response.

Gordon pointed to Dick. "He was there when she was taken; he must know something!"

"He's a kid!" snapped the medic, "he's told you everything he can!"

" _He_ can talk for himself!" put in Dick.

Barman turned to Dick. "What did you see?"

"Deastroke came for Barbra. He said he needed her help with something," answered Dick.

Batman turned back to the commissioner. "Gordon, your daughter has been taken by a bounty hunter who I recently learned has taken up residence somewhere in Crime Alley. I suggest you start there for clues. And another pointer, all cloaking device have an electro-magnetic signature. Have your men start scanning for one."

Having somewhat recovered his senses, Gordon turned to O'Hara. "Take a squad to Crime Alley and start looking for the bounty hunter's HQ. And get the computer analysts working on finding the speeder's electro-magnetic signature."

O'Hara looked dubious. "Hey, Comish', aren't we supposed to be helping the Empire arrest Batman? Why are we taking orders from 'im?"

"Because his ideas are the best we've got! Now get moving!"

O'Hara didn't look any more convinced, but did as he was told.

"Deathstroke must have taken her for a reason," mused Batman, "I think it would be wise to take the kid into protective custody."

"Yeah," Gordon looked bac towards the corner, "I'm sorry I was so hard on you kid. I don't…I didn't…"

"It's alright, sir," said Dick, "I understand."

"He'll be alright," said the medic, "just needs some rest and someone to hold him. After the shock wears off, he should be kept under observation for PTSD. But just to be on the safe side, I'll call Gotham General Kids and-"

"No," interrupted Batman, "we don't know that Deathstroke won't be back for him. I'm stashing his someplace safe until this is over."

"Do it," encouraged Gordon.

"Are you insane?!" screamed the medic, "we can't hand a kid over to a man wanted by the Empire for god knows what!"

"Neither of you have a choice," growled the Bat, "there isn't time for negotiation." He turned to Dick, "Richard Grayson-Wayne, come with me."

Dick rose from the corner and strode over to his mentor and guardian. Batman wrapped one strong arm around him, and before anyone could stop them, they flew out into the city. Dick wrapped his arms securely around Batman's neck. He felt safe swinging through the air with his mentor. And he felt guilty for being safe when Barbra had been taken by Deathsroke. Gordon was right, it should have been him. Moment's later, they were sitting in the Batmobile which had been parked about a block away.

"Are you ok?" asked Batman's gruff voice.

Dick was stunned. He'd expected some sort of lecture for letting Barbra be taken. That's what all of his other trainers would have done. "I'm fine."

"Really?" It didn't sound like Batman was convinced.

"Yeah. It's Barb I'm worried about."

"You blame yourself for not being about to protect her."

Again, Batman surprised him. "Yeah. I do," Dick admitted, "I've failed people before, but…it's selfish really, but it hurts more because it was Barbra. I care about people, but she cares about me too."

Batman grunted. "I know that all too well. Be careful with your heart, Dick Grayson, you have a good one. Don't let it betray you."

"But…"

Rather than continuing down that path, Batman interrupted. "Deathstroke is probably planning to use Barbra as some kind of bait to trap us."

"That was my evaluation as well," said Dick. They were going into business mode now. He could do that. "It's a trap I don't see a way out of walking into."

"I agree. We'll be back at the Batcave soon. Get ready to gear-up. I have a feeling we won't have to wait too long before we learn what Deathstroke and Fett are up to." Batman punched the accelerator.

"I hope not," said Dick, "I owe Slade one major ass-kicking."

A sly smile graced the Bat's features. "So now you're dealing in revenge?"

"No, I'm dealing in Justice," retorted Dick. He lowered his voice, "I am vengeance. I am the night. I am Batman!"

"Not yet," Batman deadpanned.

* * *

 **Somewhere in the Wayne Enterprises Skyscraper:**

Boba Fett watched with amusement as a somewhat beat up Deathstroke sauntered into the dark office and deposited Barbra Gordon on the floor. "Got the last piece of step one," Slade stated.

"She's a 13-year-old girl. I'd think you incapable if you failed." Boba almost laughed outright at the irony.

For his part, Slade was indignant. His pride got in the way of any kind of a retort, so he changed the subject instead. "Are the charges and hostages set for phase two?"

Boba spun his blaster through his fingers. "Like you even had to ask."

"Excellent," Slade strode over to the door, "let's let they Dynamic Duo know we're here."

"It's about time."

The two bounty hunters strode out through the office door and locked it behind them. They left Barbra alone in the dark, bound and gagged, awaiting her rescuers. Someone was going to die tonight. She was sure of it. The question was, who?

* * *

 **The Batcave:**

Richard Grayson, former Talon, knew what was going to happen. He knew what he was up against. And he knew that he would likely surrender himself to ensure that Barbra would be set free. But knowing the likely outcomes of any given conflict was not quite the same as accepting them. If he was going to face Deathstroke and toughest odds the Empire had to offer, he would go out in a blaze of glory. Dick knew it was probably a cliché to think that, like something out of a holo-vid hero's inspirational speech, but what the hell? He'd say it anyways.

He looked over his shoulder as he tugged his Kevlar chest-plate into place. Batman was still on the computer trying to get a fix on the bounty hunter's location. Unfortunately someone, likely Boba Fett, was good with computers and blocking Batman's signal from another end. Under other circumstances, Dick would have been amused by the string of curses issuing from the Bat. Right now thought, he was finding it hard not to think about what would happen to Barbra.

Since Batman was occupied, Dick sauntered over to the chest in the corner of the Batcave. Buried underneath Robin's armor and weapons were the lightsabers he had made under the tutelage of Darth Vader. He activated one. It's brilliant red blade ignited from the hilt. Red; like the blood of those who died by it. Red; like the blood moon of Avloine.

"I'm not sure red is your color these days, young sir," said a voice at his shoulder.

Dick deactivated the lightsaber. "Yeah. But I don't have another color."

"Oh," Alfred looked at him quizzically, "tell me, how to you make a red lightsaber?"

"You break the Illum Crystal and make it bleed," answered Dick.

"So what happens if you heal the crystal like you've healed yourself?"

"You mean fill the Crystals with the Light Side and redeem them?" asked Dick as he slid the crystals out of the lightsaber's casing.

"Exactly. It's a poetic final step into your new place in the universe as you prepare to fight the Darkness you were imprisoned in," Alfred agreed, "don't you think?"

Dick sat down cross legged on the floor of the Batcave. With the Force, he set the Illum Crystals afloat in the air. They began to shine and orbit around him and sing a low note as Dick drew pure light from around the universe and poured it into the crystals. He became a vessel of everything thing good in the galaxy. The crystals would heal. They would be redeemed. They could be saved.

* * *

 **Somewhere in the Wayne Enterprises Skyscraper:**

Barbra shook her head. She maneuvered herself into a sitting position and tugged at the gag in her mouth. The rubbing of the rough fabric against her face burned, but after a moment's more struggle, she pulled it down around her neck. In the darkness, she heard the faint scuffling noises of another body. She guessed the person was around her own age or size. "Dick?" she called as loudly as she dared.

A grunt came back to her from a few feet away.

"Dick, is that you?" her voice trembled despite herself.

"Who are you calling dick?" asked a boyish voice.

Barbra felt her hopes crumble at the response. She wanted to cry, but forced her voice to remain more or less steady. "Who are you?"

"Name's Jason. And you are?"

"Barbra. What happened to us?"

Jason scooted closer to her. "As near as I can figure, we're being used as bait. These bounty hunters are trying to catch Batman and Robin for the Empire."

Barbra had heard many conflicting stories about the Batman and his new sidekick. "Do you think they'll come for us?" she asked.

Jason shrugged. "Probably."

"What happens if they don't?"

After a moment's hesitation, Jason answered, "if they don't come for us, well, then we get an express ticket to the afterlife."

"How can you talk like that? Don't you take our situation seriously?!"

"Yeah. But my bet's on Robin and the Batman. They won't let us down." He sounded confident.

"How can you be so sure?" Barbra demanded. She was losing control.

"I've-"

Jason was cut short by a loud explosion on one of the lower levels. Barbra screamed. The entire skyscraper trembled and the floor beneath them bowed and bucked. Eerie blue lights blinked on as the building's power shorted and tapped into the backup generators. Then the sound of blaster bolts echoed through the halls and stairwells intermingled with terrified screams. Some one was laughing. Someone was shouting orders. Someone was crying.

Another grenade, or possibly a bomb went off in the turbo-lift shaft. The steel doors blew into the office inwards accompanied by a blossom of orange flame and black smoke. The door crashed against the far wall, narrowly missing Jason's foot. The two children wrapped their arms around each other. Barbra ducked her face in Jason's shirt as 9 or 10 more explosions erupted around them. It sounded like the bounty hunters had taken out the rest of the turbo-lifts. The building continued to shake. A few windows cracked. Dust fell from the ceiling. Furniture was thrown about and papers cascaded off the desk or spilled from the filing cabinets.

When there was a lull in the mayhem, Barbra dared to whisper, "do you think it's over?"

"I don't think so," whispered Jason, "that Boba Fett is a madman."

A low voice crackled over the building's speaker system. "Good evening ladies and gentlemen," it began, "there is no need for alarm. As long as you do as you're told and provided that the Batman and his sidekick show up on time, you will all walk out of here and live full lives." The voice paused. "I hope you're getting my signal Batman, because I have to shoot one of these people for every ten minutes you delay."

Another voice, probably off mic, echoed through the building. "Great threats," it deadpanned.

"What?" demanded the first, "did you think I had some evil genius speech prepared?"

"Indeed not," said the second, "it's just a pity that your natural eloquence is so…decidedly lacking."

"You want to make the demands?"

"At the risk of sounding redundant," answered the second. This time addressing his audience, Slade continued, "my associate is quite right, Batman. Come and face us or it is the Wayne Tech employees who will pay the price. Oh, and one message for you Talon, your friends Jason Todd and Barbra Gordon seem to have ended up here with us. But don't think finding them will be easy. It'll test just how good you really are. Do you live up to the legends? For their sake, I hope so."

When the building's speakers shut off once again, Barbra found herself trembling. She hadn't realized until now how tightly she had been holding Jason's arm. He didn't seem to mind though. 'Don't worry, Barbra," he soothed, "they'll come for us."

"I've been strong, as strong as I can be, until now…but…I, I c-can't…keep it up any more!" Barbra cried.

Jason had all but crawled into her lap. His arms were wrapped around her shoulders. "I'm scared too," he admitted, "but I've seen Batman and Robin in action. I have to believe Robin will come for us."

"I'm older. I should be comforting you," Barbra tried to laugh through the tears.

"I don't think it's like that," said Jason.

"Aww, you're bonding," sneered a voice, "how cute." It was Deathstroke. He stood tall in the dark doorway. "Let's see if your friend comes for you." He strode into the room after locking the door behind himself, and sat down in the comfortable office chair.

"Robin isn't my friend," Barbra pointed out defiantly.

Slade steepled his fingers and rested his elbows on his knees as he peered down at her through the mask. "On the contrary little lady, you just know him by another name."

 _Dick,_ thought Barbra. Images of the way he fought Deathstroke to protect her flashed through her mind. _Oh no!_

* * *

 **The Batcave:**

After the explosions registered on the master computer's head's-up threat display, Batman was finally able to zero in on the bounty hunter's location. He logged into the Wayne Tech mainframe and opened all the security cameras and sound systems in the cave. What he heard and saw made his stomach drop. If it had merely been the kidnapping of Barbra Gordon, he could have handled it easily. This was worse.

"My associate is quite right, Batman. Come and face us or it is the Wayne Tech employees who will pay the price. Oh, and one message for you Talon, your friends Jason Todd and Barbra Gordon seem to have ended up here with us. But don't think finding them will be easy. It'll test just how good you really are. Do you live up to the legends? For their sake, I hope so." The bounty hunter's voice echoed over the Batcave's sound system.

"My word!" gasped Alfred.

Batman stood up swiftly, knocking over his chair in the process. He pulled the cowl over his head and scanned the room. Striding over towards the weapons cache, he grabbed the toughest weapons in his arsenal. This was it. The showdown they had been anticipating. "Robin," he barked, "we have to go. Now."

He hesitated at the weapons vault for another moment, before punching in a nine-digit code. A small panel slid back to reveal his old lightsaber. Beside Alfred, it was the last remnant of his past as a Jedi.

 _"_ _This weapon is your life_."

Holding it again brought back memories.

 _"_ _Do or do not; there is no try."_

It felt so right to have in his hand again _._

 _"_ _A Jedi Knight you are now, Bruce Wayne."_

He unleashed the blue blade from the hilt.

 _"_ _Let the Force be your guide, Padawan_."

Deactivating the weapon, he clipped it onto his utility belt.

 _"_ _We must not dwell in the past, but neither must we burry it_."

Snapping out of his own nostalgic reverie, Batman turned around. "Robin, we need to go!" he shouted urgently. Then he saw it. And despite what he knew of Dick Grayson's capabilities with the Force, his mouth opened slightly.

Dick was connected to the Force so utterly and completely in that moment, that he could see Barbra and Jason in the Wayne Tech office in his mind. He could see Deathstroke's face mask. He could see Boba Fett pacing before his hostages. He could see the blown up interior of the skyscraper. And he could see his past. Images of his parents, the Court of Owls, his own death, Darth Vader, and the Emperor raced through his mind. They threatened to over whelm him with rage and pain. But Dick Grayson had chosen the light, and it flowed through him.

As the pain and the images flowed faster and stronger, he let out a scream. The Illum crystals he was trying to heal cried out with him as they released their own blood and pain into the Force. The orbited around him faster and faster. White light filled the cave. Batman and Alfred were forced to shield their eyes against the unbridled power of the light. Then came a near soundless explosion and a rush of wind that nearly blew the two men off their feet. Then silence and stillness.

Gasping for air, Dick looked down at the two crystals he had redeemed from the darkness. They were bright white and perfect. He snapped them back into his lightsabers' casing and looked up at his mentor. "Let's do this."

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for reading guys. Hope you're enjoying the story!**


	19. Chapter 19: Fractures and Splinters

**The Emperor's Talon**

 **Chapter 19: Fractures and Splinters**

The sky above Gotham city was cool as the sun dipped down beyond the skyline; speckled with the occasional star that peered out from the darkness like a watchful eye. The universe and the Force itself seemed to be waiting for something to happen. One might has said that the very wind held its breath as the Wayne Enterprises skyscraper burned like a funeral pier against the backdrop of blue. Police speeders, fire suppression ships, medical frigates, and Storm Trooper response teams hovered around the building inactive as they waited for the bounty hunters to issue instruction.

Two floors of the building had been completely blown out. Black smoke and golden fire curled around the support columns or spilled into the city through shattered glass windows. More benign fires burned in the turbo lift shafts or offices. The once lively building, the pride of Gotham's business sector, now looked like the skeleton of a burning warship adrift in black space. It looked alive with death. The description was neither possible nor comforting and yet seemed somehow to fit.

"I'm picking up 124 life signs in there," Robin announced as the Batmobile came to a halt hovering beside the lower blown out floor. His fingers flew over the instrument's keys. "There are three in the penthouse and 121 on floor 73."

"We're outside floor 56, that's below the penthouse and the other hostages," Batman stated.

"Looks like the turbo lifts have been taken out," Robin observed.

"Fett," Batman growled.

"It's an even money bet," Robin agreed, "what's the plan? Do we announce ourselves? We have," he looked down at his wrist chrono, "about 2 minutes until Boba kills the first hostage."

Batman was already on his feet ready to launch himself through the shattered window into the building. "We stay under the radar as long as possible. If we use grappling guns inside the turbo lift shafts, we'll make it in time. And whatever happens, follow my lead." Batman launched himself from the Batmobile and rolled as he landed on the 56th floor of the building.

Robin watched his mentor jump through the broken window as he prepared to do the same. "Follow my lead," he muttered under his breath, "I'll follow your lead as long as you don't do anything stupid." He jumped.

"The turbo lift shafts are just around this corner and down the hall," Batman whispered.

The duo rounded the corner quickly but cautiously. Blue emergency indicator lights glowed along the hallway floor. Other lights blinked dimly overhead. Small fires burned quietly along the walls while debris drifted lazily through the thickening air. This floor was quiet. Too quiet. The stillness was deceitful, worrisome, and terrifying. As far as Robin was concerned, facing down a hundred men with guns was far less frightening than walking through lifeless halls knowing what lurked elsewhere in the building.

At the end of the hall, Batman stopped in front of the durasteel turbo lift doors. He began to pry the doors open with his bare hands. The metal creaked and groaned with his effort but nevertheless began to slowly give way.

Robin looked down at his wrist chrono again. "We have a minute and ten," he whispered anxiously.

Batman grunted acknowledgment. With a dull clang, the doors finally slid back into their pockets in the wall revealing the empty shaft which ran all 81 floors of the Wayne Enterprise skyscraper. Batman leapt through the opening onto a narrow ledge inside the shaft. He aimed his grappling gun into the darkness overhead. A sharp sounding thwang indicated that the line had hit something above. A second thwang echoed down as Robin's line caught hold as well. Not even a split second later, the two were ascending the shaft quickly as the retraction mechanism on the lines pulled them steadily upwards.

At the top of their lines, the duo was forced to halt. Robin cautiously thumped his fist against the obstruction over their heads. It was solid metal. "Blast," he cursed, "it's the underside of the turbo lift. It must have gotten jammed here with the shaft blew."

Batman was already scanning the wall beside them. "We're at the 71st floor. The hostages are two floors above us."

"We-" Robin was cut off by the voice of Boba Fett which boomed through the shaft over the building's intercom speaker. The was no where to run form the voice. No way of telling from whence it came. It was like an omnipresent foreteller of death.

"I hope you're in the building Batman," he said, "cause' you only have 30 seconds to save these hostages."

Robin glared at the turbo lift over his head; the thing blocking him and Batman from the 73rd floor and the hostages. "Any brilliant ideas?"

Batman cast his gaze around wildly. "We'll have to blow it up," he decided.

Robin hid his terror behind a feral grin. "And I thought _I_ had a death-wish." Nevertheless, he began helping Batman set the charges.

"15 seconds Batman," called Fett over the intercom.

Batman looked intently at Robin. "On my count, swing towards me and let go of your line." Robin nodded. "Three, two, one, NOW!"

Robin kicked himself off the opposite wall towards his mentor as Batman detonated the explosives. The two slammed against the far wall and ducked precariously on the narrow ledge. The turbo car lift blew apart. The explosion ripped metal and shattered transparaseel. The wreckage tumbled back down the shaft, nearly a hundred stories, almost taking Batman and Robin with it.

Before the smoke cleared, Robin leapt out from under his mentor's protective arm onto the opposite ledge. Using nothing but his skill and the Force, he propelled himself upwards through the shaft. Gripping the ledge of the floor above him with one hand, he managed to swing outwards and pull a gainer up to the final floor. Batman was only seconds behind him.

"Move," the Bat commanded as he began to pry the turbo lift doors before them open.

Robin looked down at his wrist. They were out of time. "It's too late!" he cried. Before Batman could react, Robing blasted the doors open with a powerful Force push. The doors crashed against the floor announcing their arrival. Batman and Robin strode confidently through the opening just as Boba Fett pulled the trigger on the first hostage.

The scene that greeted them was akin to one of nightmares. Boba Fett stood tall, blaster in each hand, over 120 hostages huddled against the back wall of the break room. The room was dark aside from the emergency lights and the flickering fire by the windows. Fett's blaster was smoking. Someone should be dead. But he wasn't. The blaster bolt that should have gone through the man's head remained motionless in mid-air as if someone with a cosmic remote had pressed the pause button. Batman and the bounty hunter turned to see Robin, hand out stretched, face contorted with concentration, holding the blaster bolt in the Force.

"Impressive, kid," complemented Boba, "I see you two made it to your funeral."

"Clearly you can't tell the future, Fett," growled Batman.

"Oh? And you can?" the bounty hunter goaded.

"I guess that remains to be seen," Robin answered, "but I like the odds in my favor." Robin let go of his Force hold on the blaster bolt, but not in the direction of the hostage. He set it on a return track back towards the bounty hunter. Boba dropped the blaster in his right hand as the bolt shot it to pieces. He had just enough time to draw his secondary pistol before Batman's fist connected with his stomach.

"You two are fast, I'll give you that," Boba coughed. "But are you fast enough to dodge this?"

Boba let loose a torrent of blaster fire. Unlike the Storm Troopers they had faced up until this point, Boba was a good shot. He could separate his concentration in a way perhaps no other human could. He had one blaster trained on the Bat and one pointed at Robin. Each hand fired with equal deadly accuracy. Robin twisted his body through the air in a corkscrew flip landing behind one of the break room's dining tables. He flipped the table over into a makeshift barricade. Robin ducked as a blaster bolt ripped into the table near his head. Splinters from the blast pricked at his cheek. That was close.

Batman, on the other hand, stood his ground. The additional layer of Kevlar on his suit allowed him to take multiple hits without immediate damage. Seeing that Robin had ducked out of the way for the time being, Boba focused his fire on the Bat. Batman advanced slowly under fire until Boba's blaster jammed.

"My turn," growled the Bat. He lunged.

* * *

 **Wayne Enterprise Penthouse:**

Deathstroke paused his fingers halfway down the blade of his electrified katana and looked down at his captives. "From the sound of that ruckus downstairs, I'd say Batman and Robin are being held up by my associate."

"Boba doesn't stand a chance against them. He's out gunned and out matched," Jason declared confidently, "and it's only a mater of time before they whoop your ass too!"

"Fett was right about one thing, Jason Todd, you _are_ an intolerable brat," sighed Slade.

"And you're nothing but an overcompensated lacky doing other people's dirty work," Jason shot back.

This time Slade stood up and slapped him hard across the face. He had expected Jason to flinch, back down, and perhaps shed a tear. He was surprised when the boy did neither. Jason glared back up at him with hard eyes. It was clear he had taken hard knocks far too often to be fazed by a slap in the face. Slade allowed himself to feel a little respect for the kid. The galaxy was a cold place. People either broke, bent, or fought back. It looked like this kid was a fighter. Too bad his days were numbered.

"You're right about one thing though, Batman and Robin might be too much for even Boba Fett to handle alone. However, that isn't quite the plan." Slade smiled down at the two kids' ashen faces. "You didn't think I was foolish enough to bring them here without a full plan in mind, did you?"

Jason and Barbra looked at each other as their hearts plummeted once again.

Deathstroke pulled out his com-link. "Fett, are you in a position to initiate phase 3?" He listened. "Divide and conquer, my friend. Now quit messing around and let's get this over with."

* * *

 **Wayne Enterprises Breakroom:**

From behind the table, Robin was grumbling, "follow my lead he says." He snapped a new grip on his grappling gun. "Sure, I'll just go ahead and get myself shot in the chest." He rolled his eyes as a blaster bolt went wild and careened into the ceiling above him. "So uncivilized."

"Robin, what are you doing? Form Up," Batman called over his shoulder as Boba slammed him through the breakroom wall.

"You're doing fine," Robin called back, "give him the whole ' _I am vengeance, I am the night'_ routine."

"Not amused," Batman shouted.

"Well I am." Robin pulled a few smoke pellets out of his utility belt as he snapped the final adjustment onto his grappling gun. "This had better work."

Batman and Boba Fett were going at it hard core. The two combatants seemed evenly matched. Batman's martial arts, tech, and of course Jedi training matched Boba's prowess with every kind of blaster, jet pact, dirty combative tricks, and Mandlorian training. Batman feigned a left jab but Boba predicted the actual attack aimed at his right flank and sent Batman into the mini bar. Boba moved quickly to follow up before the Bat could recover.

Rising from behind the table, Robin front flipped over the barricade. "Hey Bucket-head, I hope you didn't forget about me."

Boba turned on him. He fired three shots in rapid succession. Robin pulled an Ariel cartwheel allowing the first two bolts to pass harmlessly by his torso. The third caught his thigh just as he landed. He didn't have time to think about it. Boba fired another four shots. Robin charged forward throwing the smoke pellets at the ground as he did. The bounty hunter's next shots went wild and flew aimlessly around the room. Robin turned to the hostages still cowering against the wall. He made a motion with his hand urging them to make a break for it down the stairs. When they didn't move, he employed the Force to shove them out of the way. They seemed to get the hint after that and flooded out the door. Good. One less thing to worry about.

Robin's distraction was all the time Batman needed to get back in the game. While Boba was focused on the fleeing hostages, Batman grabbed him around the neck from behind. With his target secured, Robin fired the modified grappling gun at the bounty hunter. It caught hold of the upper corner of the man's left breastplate.

"You might find this trick _shocking_." Robin pulled the switch on the grappling gun's reconfigured retraction mechanism. Electricity flowed along the cable zapping the bounty hunter. Boba's suit took most of the damage, but he was still forced to his knees.

Getting up, he glared at Robin. "I can't believe you just made that pun."

Robin ran a hand through his hair. "Neither can I."

"It's over Fett," growled Batman, "you lose."

Boba Fett just laughed. "You forget Batman, there are two of us just like there are two of you."

"Jason and Barbra weren't among the hostages in here. They must be with Slade," Robin pointed out.

Batman tightened his hold on Boba's throat. "Where is Deathstroke?" he demanded.

Boba laughed again. "That's for the Talon to figure out."

"There were three heat signatures in the penthouse when I scanned the building from the Batmobile," Robin recalled, "they must be up there."

"Very good kid," said a deep voice over the building's intercom speaker. Slade. "Let's see if you're good enough to save them. You have, oh, let's say 60 seconds to get yourself up here before I throw Barbra out the window."

"Barb!" Robin didn't take even a second to think. He bolted back towards the turbo lift shaft.

"Robin wait," called Batman, "we go together."

"No, Batman," Boba Fett stated, "that isn't the plan." He slipped a durasteel blade out of its hiding place on his hip and jammed it into Batman's side. "It's just you and me now, Bats." Fett dropped a thermal detonator at Batman's feet. The Dark Knight had no choice but to make a mad dive away from the explosive to avoid being blown to bits. Batman pushed himself up onto his knees and elbows. He pulled the knife from his side. Fett was on him before he had a chance to catch his breath.

* * *

 **The Penthouse:**

Robin kept an eye on the clock at he free climbed the seven floors up to the penthouse. He was going to be cutting it close. Again. Damnit. He glared into the darkness overhead. Letting go of the shaft's wall, Robin grabbed ahold of one of the Turbo lift cables and propelled himself upwards with the Force. When he reached the 81st floor, he was surprised to find that the doors had already been blown up. Jason and Barbra were chained to one of the support columns in the middle of the spacious room. Slade was nowhere to be seen.

Dick's Talon instincts took over. The room was dark, but he was no stranger to moving through the shadows. His eyes began to glow bright amber as the room around him became clear as day. At least the Talon serum had some benefits. Robin slipped through the opening and seamlessly into the shadows. Like a winter spirit on the breath of the wind, he moved through the room towards his friends. Slade was smart. He had moved his hostages away from the desks and furniture into the middle of the room where then was no cover. No where for him to hide save the darkness itself. Robin shrugged. When had that ever stopped him?

Not letting his guard down for a second, Robin slipped up behind Barbra and Jason. He covered their mouths before they could scream at his sudden appearance. Barbra tried to bite his hand, and Jason elbowed him in the ribs. "Shh!" he hissed urgently, "my name is Robin. I'm here to rescue you."

"Dude, what kept you?" asked Jason once his mouth was free.

"Get out of here," whispered Barbra, "it's a trap."

Robin was already picking the lock on their chains. "Of course, it's a trap."

"You don't understand! Deathstroke is…"

"Right here," said a deep voice behind him.

Surprised but unafraid, Robin rose and turned to face the bounty hunter. "You know, you look better in the dark, Deathface. I can hardly see the dent I put in your mask."

"You forget who won our last battle." Slade goaded.

"Well, this angry ex-assassin demands a rematch," responded Robin casually.

"Bold of you boy," complimented Slade, "I could like you if you weren't so impertinent."

"Insolence is part of my charm, Death-breath."

"Indeed," Slade deadpanned.

"So what now?" asked Robin, "we fight, I set them free, you run back to Darth Vader?"

"Oh we fight alright," answered Slade, "but you come will surrender or you will die."

"Yeah, I tired death. It didn't take."

"Ah, yes. The Talon will regenerate. But will Robin?"

Robin shrugged one shoulder. "I'm not planning on finding out." He drew his escrima sticks. "Bring it."

Slade pulled out his katana. "You're mighty confident for a kid who's already been beaten once."

Robin smirked. "And you're mighty confident for a man who got his ass kicked by an unarmed 13 year-old girl."

Slade growled. "Last chance; surrender."

"Let me think about that. Umm…no."

Slade shrugged. "Makes no difference to me."

Robin was ready for Slade's attack. The man lunged forward with his katana. Robin spun left before the weapon could impale his forehead. Slade swung his blade around aiming for his chest. Robin leaned back and under. Slade's weapon slammed into the column above Jason's head. Robin looked down at the wide-eyed boy still chained to the supports. He looked back up at Slade. He slammed the escrima sticks into the man's wrists forcing the bounty hunter to let go of the katana. A simple Force push threw his opponent into the back wall.

Slade was getting up already. "Damn, should have hit him harder," Robin cursed. He knelt behind Barbra and began working on her chains again. "I'll get you loose in a second."

"Look out!" screamed Jason.

Robin turned. Deathstroke yanked his weapon free of the column's grip. Robin stood. He didn't have time to grab his sticks again before Slade kicked him in the chest. Robin landed on his back with a thud. He rolled backwards as Deathstroke slammed the katana hard into the floor where his shoulder had been.

"Come now, Talon, Vader trained you better than this," Slade jeered.

Robin threw a baterang towards Slade. It sailed through the air and imbedded itself in the ceiling over the man's head.

"Tt, you've gotten sloppy."

"Have I?" The baterang began beeping. Deathstroke looked up. He tried to move. He wasn't fast enough. The device detonated blasting a hole in the celling. Chunks of plaster and ferrocreet rained down on the bounty hunter. While Slade was temporarily preoccupied with digging himself out of the mess, Robin went back to Jason and Barbra. His hands shook as he tried yet again the pick the lock. He heard a click. Almost there.

A blaster bolt hit the locking mechanism. The metal melted and warped. Robin turned to see Slade back on his feet again holding the katana with one hand and blaster with the other. The man moved forward.

"Never fight two battles at once, kid," Slade warned. "It gets you killed."

"Thanks for the tip." Robin back flipped away. Deathstroke fired several shots at him. He ducked, rolled, and flipped around the room maneuvering himself out of the line of fire. He was fast; nearly a blur of movement. After what could be described as instantaneous eternity, Slade stopped firing. Robin stopped moving. Both were breathing hard. Both sweating. They glared at each other from across the room.

The corners of Slade's mouth twitched upwards. It took Robin only a second to recognize his mistake. He had allowed Deathstroke to maneuver him away from Barbra and Jason. The bounty hunter kept the blaster pointed at Robin while he swung the katana at Barbra's head. There was no way Robin could make it across the room in time. He screamed as Slade brought the blade home.

* * *

 **The breakroom:**

Boba forced Batman back. He fired shot after shot. Batman had taken out his three but blasters and his jetpack, but Boba, like Batman, was one of the best. He had conserved his energy. While Batman had been fighting to end the battle quickly and make his way to Robin's side, all Boba had to do was keep him put. The Bat was wearing down. He was getting desperate. Good.

They heard a soul crushed scream above them. Batman reached out for Robin in the Force. He felt an intense flash of pain through the connection. He had to get up there and fast. If only Robin hadn't run off to face Deathstroke alone. _Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why can't that boy just do as he's told?_

"Any more party trick up your sleeve, Batman?" asked Boba.

Batman knew he couldn't keep dodging bullets forever. But he didn't have too. "Just one," he answered. Batman reached for his lightsaber and activated it. He caught Boba's fire with the bright yellow blade.

"I've been waiting for this," laughed Boba, "Aurra Sing will be _so_ jealous."

"You're about to wish you'd left Gotham alone." The Dark Knight charged like a bat out of hell.

* * *

 **The Penthouse:**

Robin felt physical pain shoot up his arm as he tried to catch Slade's blade in the Force. The effect on him was similar to taking the blow himself. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough. Deathstroke still managed to sink the blade into Barbra's neck. Blood dripped from the wound. From this distance, Robin couldn't tell how bad the cut was, but it scared him. Barbra had come so close to death because of him. It would never happen again.

He had tried Batman's way. Batman's way had almost gotten Barbra killed. It was time to change things up. With a flick of his wrist, he smacked the katana way from her with the Force. Slade, refusing to relinquish his hold on the weapon, was thrown several feet like a ragdoll. Robin pulled his lightsabers out from their hiding place on his belt. The brilliant white blades blazed forth from the hilts.

"Barbra, Jason, heads up," Robin shouted. The threw a lightsaber in their direction. It spun end over end through the air cutting their chains as it passed.

"Awesome!" cried Jason standing and punching his fist in the air. "Did ya see that, girly? Rob's got lightsabers! Two of them!"

"I saw." Barbra smiled. She tried to stand. She wobbled and threatened to collapse. Jason caught her.

Over at the far wall by the windows, Deathstroke pushed himself back to his feet. "You know Talon, if you keep pushing me around the room, I might start to get angry with you."

Robin reached his hand out before himself. The lightsaber he had thrown into Barbra and Jason's chains sailed through the air back to his waiting hand. Deathstroke cracked his neck and activated the energy shield surrounding the blade of his katana. With the energy field, Slade could fight an opponent armed with blasters or even lightsabers. The shield worked on the same basic energy wavelength as a lightsaber protecting the metal underneath from being completely carved through by the more powerful weapons.

Slade smirked at the way Robin's expression faltered when he activated the energy shield. "What? You didn't think I would come unprepared for your little archaic weapons, did you?"

"Anything's possible," Robin answered casually, "you haven't exactly impressed me today."

"Arrogant whelp!" spat Deathstroke.

Robin pulled a paksalto over the office desk and landed between Deathstroke and his friends. Slade brought his katana down hard. Making an X with his lightsabers, Robin caught the move easily. The two combatants locked blades. Tension filled the atmosphere as they evaluated one another. When the moment passed, the began to duel in earnest; Deathstoke with his carefully measured and brutal attacks, and Robin with his acrobatics. The whole room filled with pulsating white lights as Robin's lightsabers spun and parried faster than the eye could track. Robin allowed himself to become one with the Force. He pushed Deathstroke back. He became faster and faster. Nothing remained in the world but the white blades of destruction and Slade.

Deathstroke faltered. Robin pressed the attack. He realized his mistake too late. Slade jammed a small knife into his abdomen. He might have still been able to fight had the knife not been laced with poison. Robin could feel the poison attacking the Talon serum still running through his veins. He was freezing and slowing down. He barely evaded Slade's last attack before falling to his knees. The room was growing dark. The world was spinning.

"You put up a good fight kid," Slade mocked, "now, surrender; or I'll finish what I started." The bounty hunter grabbed Barbra from behind and pressed the katana against her throat.

"Don't do it, Robin!" she screamed.

But Dick could hardly hear her. He could hardly see her through the red haze that clouded his mind. On the brink of losing consciousness, Robin recognized what he was feeling. It was the Dark Side. Part of him knew to fight it. But the other part of him wanted to give in.

"You can't do anything," taunted Slade, "you can't save her. You can't save yourself. You thought you could alter fate; redeem the irredeemable. You thought the hero could be born from the ashes of a villain, but the universe tells another story. You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain."

He had tried Batman's way. Batman's way didn't work. Robin narrowed his eyes. Screw it. There was more than one way to win.

….

 _Sometimes sacrifices must be made to save the things precious to us. But can we sacrifice our principals? Our very souls? Sometimes the price may be too steep, but it's a price some are willing to pay. Sacrifices are made by good people for good reasons, but sometimes they will give too much._

 _…_ _._

* * *

 **A/N:** Hey guys, hope you enjoyed this chapter.


	20. Chapter 20: The Light Goes Out

**The Emperor's Talon**

 **Chapter 20: The Light Goes Out**

Deathstroke held Barbra Gordon by the hair with one strong hand, forcing her chin towards the ceiling. And with the other hand he held his katana to her throat. She continued bleeding steadily from a deep cut in her neck. Her breathing was hard as her body was wracked by barely controlled sobs. Hot tears cascaded over her cheeks.

Jason Todd stood to the side, just out of the bounty hunter's reach. He wanted to pull Robin to his feet. He wanted to launch himself at Deathstroke and yank Barbra from the man's grasp. But he was also smart enough to realize that if he should try either, Barbra would die instantly. So he stood still, heart beating faster than he ever believed it could, waiting for Robin to rise and save them all. Because he still believed his friend would win.

In contrast, Deathstroke smiled behind his mask. He _knew_ he'd won. The poison laced knife was still embedded in Robin's stomach. The boy couldn't move. Slade considered releasing Barbra to claim his prize, but squashed the idea. He wasn't such a fool. He'd wait until the boy either passed out or surrendered. The kid might be trying to be a hero now, but Slade knew something Robin would never admit. Talon is still inside him. The Dark Side is still inside him. Slade fears it. Treachery is the way of the Sith, and Deathstroke wanted no part of it.

As for Dick Grayson, he appeared to just sit there on the verge of slipping into unconsciousness. He appeared defeated. Helpless. Broken. Yet unbeknownst to all the others, his inner demons reawakened. Power swelled inside him like a dam surging against the floodwalls. And should he let it go, even the greatest tales of the Talon would pale in comparison.

… _A dream or vision…conversation with the Dark_ …

"Are you going to set me free, now?" asked a silky yet sinister voice.

Through the swirling red haze in his mind, Dick searched for the owner of the voice. There wasn't one. It was somehow…disembodied. It was a voice he'd never heard before, and yet it was somehow familiar. "Who…who are you?" he asked, " _where_ are you?"

"Me?" chuckled the voice, "why I am Talon. I am Vader. I'm Batman and the Emperor. I am everyone and I am no one. But most importantly, I am you."

"How can you be me?" asked Dick in confusion.

The voice laughed again. "Child, you still have much to learn. I am the Dark Side. I live inside every living being."

"But I banished you," Dick faltered.

"You can never banish me!" the voice scoffed, "You are connected to the Force. The Force is both light and dark. Neither can exist without the other."

"But why are _you_ here?"

"To help you of course."

Dick internally rolled his eyes, at this, "yeah, because you're _so_ good at that."

"And the Light has been better at it?" inquired the Dark. It was a leading question.

Dick remained silent.

"Admit it; you tried Batman's way. Batman's way didn't work."

And once again, Dick didn't have an answer to that. He'd been thinking the same thing. Sort of.

"My plan is simple," the Dark continued, "let me crush Deathstroke's windpipe. Once I have him in my clutches, he won't be able to do anything. He'll be dead. Barbra and Jason will be safe."

"What if I'd rather just surrender?" Dick countered.

"You'd rather die yourself? Return to slavery?" the Dark snorted. "You know what Vader and the Emperor will do to you, don't you?"

Images of torture and death spilled forth from the vault in which he'd locked them. He saw his parents falling to their deaths, their broken and mangled bodies lying limp on the ground. Images of faceless white bird masks filled his memory, the Court of Owls. He saw the knife they used to kill him; remembered the unbearable pain as the masked figure plunged it into his heart. He saw Darth Vader and the Emperor and the numerous tortures they inflicted on him. The times they tried to break everything he tried so hard to hold onto. He saw the faces of those he had murdered for the sake of their empire.

Voices in the memories screamed at him. The images flashed faster and faster. It became a blur of pain, despair, fear, and anger.

And then the past became indistinguishable from the present. And the present became the future without his knowing. Dick could no more escape these new images in his head than he could the memories. Even if he squeezed his eye shut against the world he could see them. He could not discern the visions from reality.

He was forced to watch Barbra and Jason die at Deathstroke's hand. He saw Batman fall to Boba Fett's vibro-blade. And he saw Alfred killed in an explosion as the Emperor decimated Wayne Manor. Dead. They were all dead.

Then the story changed. _He_ had killed them. Killed them all. Deathstroke had turned him over to Darth Vader.

"Welcome back my wayward, Talon," droned Vader.

"Punish him for his betrayal; destroy Dick Grayson," hissed the Emperor without preamble.

"As you wish my Master," answered the mechanical voice. Then Dick saw himself being led away, back to the halls of torture he knew so well.

"Wait," called the Emperor, "I have a better idea. Make him kill them. All of them. The girl and the boy. The Dark Knight and the old man. I want him to pay for this treachery."

And then, to his utter horror, Dick heard the Talon answer for him. "As you wish, my master."

"No. No. NO!" Dick tried to free himself of the vision, but it clung to him like a wet cape. It was inescapable. He could no more surrender than he could let Jason and Barbra die. He thought he had tried everything, but…no. There was one more trick up his sleeve.

He tried Batman's way. Batman's way didn't work. Robin narrowed his eyes. Screw it. There was more than one way to win.

…..…

Slade thought he was prepared for everything. He waited patiently for Robin to come out of his poison induced trance and surrender or simply topple over unconscious. He was surprised, therefore, when the boy raised his head and looked not at him, but through him. His eyes narrowed. Something within him changed. Broke free. Snapped.

As realization dawned on him, Slade cursed, "Oh crap."

He had not planned for _this._

Dick Grayson let go. The Dark Side screamed through him as the cage broke open. Raw terror and pain burst through the floodgates. The rage. The pain. The power. Dick became a supernova, a nexus of the Force. He had lost control completely and handed it over to his pain and fears. Dick's agonized scream ripped through the entire building on the wind of the gale storm whipping around him. The windows blew out and shattered glass exploded into the night.

"Robin?!" called Jason, as he braced himself against the powerful winds.

But his call went unanswered. The room started to shake. It was as if an earthquake reached into the walls and floors. Gravity lost its power as the furniture and debris began to lift off the ground, caught up in the swell of the Force.

And Deathstroke? He lifted off the ground as well. The katana in his hand shattered and turned to a pile of shrapnel at his feet. But the sword was the least of his problems. He gripped futilely at an invisible hand vised around his throat. He couldn't breathe. And after a second, he realized why; the Force was crushing his windpipe.

"Robin!" screamed Jason again, "we're safe. You can stop. I have Barbra, we're safe."

But Dick couldn't hear him. The Dark was free of her cage. He didn't know how to pull her back. How to bind her once again. And she was right after all; this was the way. The only way to make sure Jason and Barbra stayed safe was to kill Deathstroke.

* * *

 **Wayne Enterprises, The breakroom:**

Batman was forced to pause his battled with Boba Fett. Something wasn't right. The Force was telling him something. He listened.

"No," he breathed, "Robin."

Boba took immediate advantage of his distraction, and hurtled himself at the Bat. He succeeded in kicking the lightsaber from the man's hand.

"What, getting slow ol-Batsy?" he jeered, "you should have seen that coming a mile away."

"I see something else coming," growled Batman.

But Boba got the feeling he did _not_ have the Bat's full attention. He felt gipped. "Oh?"

Fett was about to make some other trolling comment as he pulled the repulsor blaster from its holster, when a sudden gale storm surged through the building. Even as he braced himself, he could feel his feet sliding back over the carpet. And suddenly Batman's last comment made a lot more sense. And then the building started to shake. What windows he and Batman hadn't broken were blasted out into the city.

"What _is_ that?" he screamed in horror over the rushing wind. Very undignified. Oh well, he'd berate himself for it later.

"It's Robin," answered Batman in a low voice.

"The kid?!" Boba was incredulous.

Batman said nothing. But he looked grave.

Oh. _OHHHH_. This wasn't part of the plan. Boba smirked. The kid probably just lost control of some powers Batman didn't want him to use. Interesting. Well, Boba Fett was nothing if not an opportunist. While Batman was distracted with Robin's little tantrum, he'd take him down. Chivalrous it surely wasn't, but then, bounty hunters weren't known for their sense of honor.

"Good night Bats."

Boba set the blaster to stun and fired at the back of Batman's head.

* * *

 **Wayne Enterprises, Penthouse:**

"He's going to kill the bounty hunter," Jason shouted to Barbra over the storm.

"Let him," she growled as she tried to regain her breath and stop the bleeding in her neck.

"But look what it's doing to him," Jason argued.

Barbra took in the image of the boy surrounded by more power than she had ever believed she would witness. He appeared to stand at the center of a dying star; the universe was his to command. "He'll be fine," she assured Jason.

"No, he'll lose himself." He shook his head. "I have to help him."

"How?"

"I…look, just get ready to run to those stairs." Jason pulled Barbra to her feet and started towards Dick.

Barbra grabbed his arm. "If you go over there, who knows what will happen to you," she argued. "You could die along with Deathstroke."

"He won't hurt me," Jason responded with confidence, "trust me. I've seen enough people lose it. He aint gone yet."

"But…"

"Trust me."

Jason began working his way through the gale towards his friend. "Robin!" he called, "that's enough! You did it. You won. You can let him go."

Again, he went unanswered. But Jason Todd was nothing if not stubborn. He finally reached his broken friend's side. He saw the knife still lodged in Robin's stomach. Blood flowed through the wound. Hot tears spilled over ashen cheeks. Here in the center of the vortex, Jason could feel the emotions rolling off Robin in waves through the Force.

He reached out with one hand and rested it on the older boy's shoulder. "Robin, this aint the way. Not for you. Please. You saved us. Now let me save you."

The hand on the shoulder seemed to bring him back to reality more than anything else. Dick scanned the room as if with new eyes. He screamed again. With a whoosh, the wind dissipated. The furniture clattered to the floor along with one gagging and sputtering Slade Wilson.

"Jace?" breathed Robin.

"Yeah, that would be me," Jason smiled, "you ok, dude?"

Dick forced a smile. "I will be." His eyes found Slade and narrowed once again.

"Don't suppose he got as much as he deserved," said Jason with a shrug, following Dick's gaze towards the bounty hunter, "but you're not the one to give it to him."

"I'm not?" coughed Dick.

"No. I think you know what I mean."

This time Dick gave him a real smile. "Thank you. I don't know what I would have done without you."

Jason smirked and jerked his thumb in Slade's direction, "well for one thing, he'd be toast."

Dick winced.

"I guess that makes us even."

Dick nodded at that. "You ok Barb?" he called.

She gave him a thumbs-up. "I'm good. For now."

Dick sighed in relief. He let himself crash back to the floor as the weight of his actions and his wounds finally overcame him. Jason tried to catch him, but only managed to soften his landing slightly.

"You and Barba need serious patching up," Jason observed. "My mom's pretty good with that stuff or I know this doctor lady if mom's drunk or passed out or somethin'…"

"Jace," Dick interrupted.

"Yeah?"

"First we have to get out of here." Jason nodded, and started pulling Dick to his feet again. Dick began typing something into his gauntlet's holo-computer. "Help me over to that window with Barbra," he instructed. Barbra came up beside him opposite Jason and slid his arm over her shoulders to help him stand. The trio continued making their way over to the glassless window until they stood just at the end.

Barbra looked down at the cityscape 75 stories below. "I don't think I'm going to like this, but I have to ask anyways, what exactly are you planning here?"

"Jump on my signal," answered Dick.

"I knew I wouldn't like it," she said despondently.

"There _are_ stairs in this building you know," Jason chimed in.

"Yeah," agreed Barbra, "nice safe stairs."

Dick shook his head. "That will take too long." Barbra's shocked and more than slightly appalled face made him laugh. "Don't worry, the landing is closer than you think. You just can't see it yet." He was about to continue explaining when the Force nudged him to turn around. _Stang. Not him again_ , he mentally cursed.

"Talon, you bastard," spat Deathstroke. He had risen unsteadily to his feet and pulled out a vibro-whip.

 _The man's tenacious, I'll give him that_ , thought Dick. But even beaten and bruised as he was, Deathstroke was the stronger the two for the moment. Dick knew he was dying again thanks, in no small part, to the bounty hunter. What was it with evil people in faceless masks sticking knives into him, anyways?

"I should have let you kill him," said Jason regretfully as they turned around to face Deathstroke again.

"Ya think!" snapped Barbra.

"Just get ready to jump," Dick cut it. He glared down at the readout on his gauntlet computer as if it could make his plan come to fruition any faster. Three, two, one. The red light finally blinked green. Outside the window, Dick heard the roar of repulsor-lift engines. _Finally._ "JUMP!"

"Heck no!" cried Barbra. Dick gave her a shove. She screamed as she fell the whole length of five feet before she hit something solid. _The landing is closer than you think. You just can't see it yet_. "Robin!" she screamed angrily.

"You can kill him later," Jason promised as he readied himself to leap out the window.

Dick felt the shiver of a warning in the Force a moment before he saw it. "Move!" he pushed Jason out the window. The two boys fell just as Deathstroke's vibro-whip snaked towards them. Jason landed safely beside Barbra. Dick on the other hand, wasn't so lucky. He hung above them, suspended in the whip wrapped around his ankle.

"Robin!" cried Jason.

Even upside-down, he continued typing furiously on his wrist computer. The Batmobile materialized beneath Barbra and Jason as the cloaking device deactivated. He sent a few more instructions to the vehicle, and the Batmobile soared away into the night, carrying his friends to safety.

Above him, Deathstroke laughed. "All that power and you still lost."

"You captured a twelve-year-old; real bragging rights," retorted Dick sarcastically. Deathstroke probably said something else, but Dick didn't hear it. The poison in his system finally overcame him.

* * *

 **Wayne Enterprises, Breakroom:**

Boba Fett stared down at Batman, fallen at his feet. Still alive. Boba didn't really care if he was or wasn't alive. Darth Vader hadn't specified. He shrugged and reached for his comm-link. As he punched in Slade's key code, he hesitated. He had Batman; why share his catch? He shrugged again. He sill needed the kid. Betrayal would have to come later.

"I got mine. You get yours, Old man?"

A haggard, raspy voice came through the other end of the link. "Yeah, I have the Talon secured."

Boba raised an eyebrow under the helmet. "Sounds like you got your butt handed to you?"

"Shut up Fett," came the aggravated response.

Boba snickered. "So what now O' Omniscient One?"

"Meet me on the roof with your prisoner and let's get the hell out of here," Slade answered ignoring Boba's sarcastic deferentially.

For his part, the younger bounty hunter grinned. Slade was weakened after his battle with Robin. It appeared that Robin or Talon or whoever the hell we was, had already done most of his job for him. And if not, he was at least in a position to defend himself against Slade's inevitable treachery. Either way, Darth Vader would have his prize.

Boba grabbed the Dark Knight's ankle and started dragging him towards the turbo-lift shaft. Activating his jet pack, Boba headed up the shaft to the roof. Slade was waiting for him with the kid slung unconscious over his shoulder.

"Mine's bigger than yours," smirked Boba as he lifted Batman's ankle slightly like a Kaminoan fisherman showing off a gigantic Shrillfish.

"If you're quite finished, we have an appointment with the Emperor and Darth Vader on Coruscant," Slade shifted Dick on his shoulder, "someone is long overdue home."

…..

 _Perhaps darkness was meant to win after all. Where light requires energy, darkness is a natural state. It is pervasive. It is eternal. And no one can hold out against the dark forever._

 _….._


	21. Chapter 21: As the Jericho Flies

**The Emperor's Talon**

 **Chapter 21: As the** ** _Jericho_** **Flies**

Outside the Jericho's trasparasteel portholes, the stars turned from blinking dots to elongated steaks of light as the interstellar cruiser jumped into hyperspace. Once again, Boba Fett sat in the pilot's seat. His bucket, or as he so often corrected people, his _helmet_ , rested in the copilot's seat. Slade regarded the thing with ire upon his return to the cockpit.

"I see you gave my seat away," he observed flatly.

"You snooze, you lose," Boba answered with a shrug.

"Get rid of it." Slade was in no particular humor to deal with Boba at the moment.

With an unreadable grin, the younger bounty hunter shoved his armor off the seat for Slade to sit down. Once the man was seated, he couldn't help jibing him; "feeling your age, Old Man?"

"Shut up and pilot."

Boba continued to grin. "The Jericho's already flying on auto-pilot. The Nava-computer took over three minutes ago."

Slade grunted a non-acknowledgment. "How long till we reach Coruscant?"

"About 37 standard hours," Boba answered, "I propose we keep our cargo sedated until at least the few hours of the trip. If it's all the same to you, I'd rather not deal with an insurrection. Speaking of which, did you secure Batman and the kid?"

"They're in the airlock service hold. If they try anything, we'll jettison them into space and retrieve their bodies after the fact," Slade answered.

"That's cold, man," said Boba with an approving smile. "But don't' they have the _Force_ to help them out or something?"

Slade stared dispassionately down at the console readout. "Already taken care of. I put Force-inhibitor collars on them. It effectively shuts off their connection to the Force, rendering them merely human."

"Gotta' hand it to you Deathface, you really do think of everything," Boba congratulated. "Anyways, I need to use the refresher. Don't mess with the nava-computer while I'm gone."

He wasn't actually going to the refresher. He was going to check on Batman and Robin to verify Salde's claims. Slade probably knew this, but he opted to let it slide. Since their objective was now complete- their quarry being safely aboard their ship- the truce the partnership was based on was quickly becoming void. Betrayal was the way of bounty hunters. And both Slade and Boba were too well renowned as individuals to share the glory and prize money.

With this in mind, the younger bounty hunter trotted silently towards the airlock hold Slade had mentioned. He peered in through the little window in the door. So, Slade had told the truth. Batman, still unconscious, was chained to the right wall by one wrist. He was slumped in an awkward sitting position and Boba didn't envy him the crick in his neck he'd discover upon awakening. Robin, on the other hand, hadn't been chained. Instead, he had been dumped in a crate of ice. His face had become a sort of ash gray against the clear white ice. Blood slicked ice cubes floated against his injured chest. Boba shivered in a kind of sympathy; that had to suck.

Boba returned to the cockpit plotting his betrayal of Deathstroke. He smelled blood in the water. Slade, while still pompous, had taken a beating at the hands of the Talon. He'd see first hand that the kid was one powerful Force user; on par with all of the Jedi Knights he had encountered over the years, and even many of the Masters. Deathstroke was worse off than he was letting on.

Still, Boba had to be careful. Slade had proven time and time again that he was a wise old fox. Tricky and treacherous. And however more physically capable Boba might be at the moment, he had no doubt that the old bounty hunter was 12 steps ahead of them all.

* * *

 **The** ** _Jericho_** **, Hyperspace: 3 days later:**

The first thing Batman became aware of as he regained consciousness, was his aching neck and sore back. He discovered that he had been slumped against a wall, chained up by one wrist. A heavy metal collar was wrapped around his neck. Running his fingers up and down it confirmed his suspicions; someone had put a Force inhibitor collar on him. They had also taken his utility belt, weapons, and boots. A prisoner then. Boba had somehow managed to beat him after all. He forced his eyes open. The world spun but he made himself focus. Slowly but surely, his eyes and mind sharpened and he was able to take in his surroundings.

His heart sank. The white walls, bright overheads and warnings lights, and the oversized airlock door indicated that he was being held in the service hold- a kind of limbo between the ship and space. Across from him, was a small coffin shaped crate full of slowly melting ice. Frigid water dripped down the sides of the crate along with something vaguely red. Could it be… _blood_?

Batman felt his stomach churn. He shifted himself upwards onto his knees in order to peer over the lip of the crate. And if he hadn't felt nauseous before, he did now. Dick had been placed inside the crate and then covered in ice. Blood oozed slowly into the icy water from a deep stab wound just under his ribcage. A thick corrugated-edged knife stuck vertically out of the wound; the blade blackening with congealed blood. The boy's face was deathly colorless, and Batman couldn't help but notice the pale silvery veins start to work their way back onto his cheeks.

"Robin?" he called tentatively, "Robin, wake up."

Nothing.

" _Robin?_ "

Still, dead silence. Batman tested the length of his chain. If he strained against it hard enough to let the iron bite into his flesh, he could hook the fingers of his other hand around the lip of the crate. He dragged the whole monstrous casket closer to himself with one hand. The jostling upset the balance of the contents, spilling icy water and blood onto the floor.

Batman wracked his brain, trying to remember everything he had ever read on the Talon. Cold. The Talon couldn't regenerate in low temperatures. Which meant that Batman had to get him out of the ice before the kid would respond to anything.

Still using one hand, Batman hauled Robin's limp body out of the crate, spilling more melted ice than he intended in the process. Robin flopped ungracefully to the floor of their makeshift cell in a boneless heap. Batman pulled Robin into his lap and pealed the mask away from the pale face. Thick black lashed lay flat and unmoving against snowy cheeks. Batman pressed two fingers to the child's neck.

No pulse.

Robin was dead.

Batman's fingers trembled slightly as he pulled the knife from Robin's bloodied torso and let it clatter to the ground. He held Robin closer to his chest hoping his own body heat would eventually bring the boy back to life. Legends from the Court of Owls claimed that the Talons were essentially the walking dead; people murdered by the court and brought back to life with a regenerating serum to serve their killers. Thus, under the right circumstances, they could jump between life and death as if crossing some magic rainbow bridge. And while this was neither a good thing nor comforting, Batman needed his Robin to reawaken.

For what felt like hours upon hours Batman sat cradling Robin in his arms, waiting patiently for life to return to the small broken body in his lap. He was beginning to doubt the legends. Maybe this was it. Maybe neither Robin nor the Talon were coming back. _Wake up, Dick_ , he pleaded silently. He was about to set the body aside and let himself grieve, when something started happening.

At first, he doubted his eyes. But sure enough, the ice on the floor began to levitate. Water droplets still forming on the outside of the crate began to fall upwards. And though the inhibitor collar around his neck prevented him from feeling the Force around him, he could _see_ it. He looked down at Robin. Not much had changed about his physical appearance, but he was awakening.

Robin gasped, and bright amber eyes flew open. The ice plummeted back to the floor.

"Robin?" asked Batman cradling the boy's icy cheek in his hands. It remined him too much of their first meeting by the wall that snowy January night. Unfortunately, yellow eyes indicated he was looking at the Emperor's little Talon. And he wanted so desperately know that Robin had survived death. He was certain the Talon would.

"Batman?" croaked the boy in his arms.

"I'm here."

"Where are we?" Wha…what happened?"

"We're in the service hold airlock of a star cruiser."

The boy, Dick- because Batman didn't know who he was at the moment- trailed his fingers along the stab wound in his side and then along the collar around his neck. "Prisoners?" he asked.

"For the time being," Batman allowed.

Dick laughed a little at that. His eyes flickered a few times. Batman stared down at him.

"You felt what I did back at Wayne Tech," Dick stated, "the anger, the fear, the darkness."

"Yes."

"You're wondering if I went Talon on you and killed Deathstroke."

Batman didn't say anything.

"If it's any consolation, I didn't. I wanted to, but I didn't. As long as Boba Fett hasn't gotten to him yet, that scumbag lives to kill another day." Dick opened his eyes again. Blue and gold swirled in his irises, each battling for control. Robin versus Talon. Two masked beings battling inside Dick Grayson.

Batman watched the internal confliction play out in Dick's eyes. It was mesmerizing and terrifying all at once. "I won't lie to you, Dick. I'm relieved."

Dick gave him a tired smirk. "Glad you're not brooding over where you could have messed up training me?"

"No. I'm glad the hope and goodness you fought for is still inside you," Batman answered.

"Well, that's nice to know," quipped Dick, "help me sit up?"

Batman gently levered Dick into a siting position. He held the back of the boy's neck, supporting his head, as Dick threatened to black out on him. It appeared Dick didn't have any strength left in him. The child slumped forward slightly against Batman's shoulder.

"How do you feel?" Batman asked concerned.

"Like I just came back from the dead," Dick answered with a slightly disturbing smirk.

Batman winced. "Anything I can do to help?"

"Not unless you can get this damned collar off me."

"Negative," answered Batman apologetically. But it did give him a perfect Segway into the question that had been plaguing his detective's mind since before Dick's eyes even opened. "I'm not sure you need me to take it off for you. I saw the Force gather around you _despite_ your collar. How?"

Dick ran a shaky hand though his ice damp hair. "You know how the Jedi teach that when you die, you become one with the Force?"

Batman nodded.

"Well, every time I die, I become one with the Force. When the Talon serum brings me back, I bring back more of the Force, if you will. It's like I live between the tangible world and the intangible Force; and by dying and shifting planes, I get constantly closer to the edge of reality where the Force and I are one." Dick looked unsure of himself for a moment. "Does that make any sense?"

The wheels of Batman's mind were turning at the speed of light. "Who else knows about this?"

"Darth Vader."

"That's it?" Batman raised an eyebrow, "not even the Emperor or the Court of Owls?"

"No. Vader was the one who figured out what was happening to me. It was our most closely guarded secret." At Batman's silent urging, Dick continued, "Vader needed an ace in the hole if Emperor Palpatine tried to betray him again. I was going to be his 'Ace'. As for the Court, they'd never taken in a Force sensitive Talon before. At first, they were intrigued by my power; after I lost control, the feared it."

"What do you think of it?" prodded Batman.

Big amber and blue eyes stared up at him from the small boy tucked against his side. "It scares me a little," Dick admitted. "I know it's going to be the death of me. But until that happens, I know I can use it for something good. Maybe even something incredible."

Batman never pulled off his cowl, but suddenly it was Bruce Wayne sitting there in that cell with Dick Grayson. He tightened his arm around the boy he'd taken under his wing. "You will. Many choose to be good, but some are destined to be great."

No more words needed to pass between them. They were dangerously close to that sentimental honesty and love Batman had always shied away from. Dick's eyes finally cleared to that beautiful deep blue Bruce loved so well. The boy smiled at him with a genuinely heart-melting smile. The sunshine was back, if just for a moment.

* * *

 **The** ** _Jericho_** **, Cockpit:**

Slade Wilson kept his eyes glued to the security monitors as they received feed-back from cameras in the airlock compartment. After three days of space travel without any trouble form Boba or the sedated Dynamic Duo, Slade was more wary than ever. His hand remained inches away from the button that would jettison Batman and Robin into space. If they tried anything, he'd kill them both instantly.

Slade had allowed Batman to drag his little protégé out of the icy crypt he'd been smart enough to put him in. He watched with dispassionate predatory eyes as Batman held the boy close to his chest. And she saw the ice lift into the air by the power of the Force, _despite_ the inhibitor collars he had set around their necks. _Interesting._

Hand that kid- that raw power- back the emperor? Well, temporarily. Slade smirked. His majesty could have Batman. The Talon was his.

Footsteps entered the cockpit behind him. "Keeping an eye on the prize?" asked Boba. His voice was filtered. Wearing his helmet then.

"I am."

"We should be exiting hyperspace soon."

"Yes." Slade swiveled his chair around slowly to face his associate. "And now it begins."

"We don't have to fight," offered Boba, but his body language- hands twitching near his blasters- said otherwise.

Now Deathstroke was facing him full on. "I don't intend too."

The cockpit console beeped. Elongated stars flashed outside the viewport as the _Jericho_ exited hyperspace. Coruscant, home to the Imperial Palace, loomed huge out in space. They're journey together had come to an end.

Slade moved. Boba fired at the chair he'd been sitting in, but Deathstroke was no longer there. He had made a dash for the escape pod. The small craft shot towards the capital and Boba watched it from the cockpit. The young bounty hunter should have congratulated himself on this turn of events, but a knot had formed in his stomach. Slade was 12 steps ahead. He was sure of it. The man always played his own games.

* * *

 **The** ** _Jericho_** **, airlock chamber:**

"We need a plan, ASAP. As in, things are really, _really_ bad right now," stated Robin.

Batman quirked an eyebrow behind his cowl. "What tipped you off?"

"Oh haha," Robin deadpanned. Then in all seriousness he added, "Fett and Deathstroke must have kept us sedated for approximately 35 hours; long enough to get to Coruscant."

Batman strained against his chain to follow Robin's gaze out the viewport. Sure enough, he saw the capital planet in the near distance. Damn. This was bad. He was sure they'd have more time than that. Not that he could stage anything from inside the airlock, Boba or Slade could kill them both instantly if they so much as moved the wrong muscle, but he thought he'd have a chance to at least come up with a contingency plan.

"Bats?" called Robin, dragging him out of his stunned brooding.

"Where are they likely to take us?" he demanded, snapping back in business mode.

"The Imperial Palace," answered Robin, "the Emperor wants to greet us personally I'll wager."

"The Imperial Palace," Batman mumbled, "that's the old Jedi Temple. I used to live there as a padawan."

"Funny. I lived there as a slave." Dick's face had become disconcertingly haunted and blank.

But they didn't have time to deal with their demons. The _Jericho_ was steadily approaching the planet's surface. Time was running short. Any plan they could come up with now would be implausible at best and fatal at worst.

Batman pulled back his cowl and looked Robin in the eyes. "How well do you know that palace?"

"Well enough," answered Robin.

"Do you know the air vent system?"

Robin cocked his head. "Oddly specific, but yes."

"If we get the chance, run. Don't wait for me. Go through the vents and get outside. Wait for me in the old Limeridge factory in The Works. If I don't show up with three days, get yourself off world. Don't stop running for anything. You got that?"

"You do know that's not a plan, right?" answered Robin with ill-placed wry amusement.

"We don't get a plan. Not this time," said Batman darkly.

"You're _the_ Batman. Don't you carry around contingency plans or dooms-day protocols in your back pocket?"

"Apparently not. Our only chance is that you can use the Force through the inhibitors and maybe deactivate them."

Robin looked decidedly unimpressed. "You don't have something more surefire, like let's say…an EMP in your gauntlets?"

"No."

Robin sighed. "We are _so_ screwed."

Meanwhile, the _Jericho_ angled down towards the planet. Coruscant, Capital of the Galactic Empire, could only be described as a lifeless jungle of strictly regimented towers and skyscrapers. The orbital mirrors which brought light and warmth to the planet from its distant sun shone with a fresh coat of polish; the evidence of efficiency and underpaid labor.

Batman and Robin watched helplessly through the airlock viewport as Boba guided the ship towards a landing pad atop the central spire of what had once been the Jedi Temple. When the dust settled, they could hear the rhythmic sound of armored boots circling the ship or clattering up the gangplank. Storm Troopers. Moments later, the airlock hatch cycled open and white clad men scrambled forward; each trooper eager to be the one to take custody of the Emperor's prize.

"Move it," ordered one trooper as he hauled Robin to his feet.

Robin glared up at him, "nice to see you again too, Bucket-head 323 _,"_ he greeted.

"You have no authority here anymore, Talon," the trooper sneered, "not much of a loss though. I always hated you."

"Well the feeling was mutual," Robin retorted, "cleaning up after your company's blunders was never much fun."

323 snorted as he clapped electro-binders onto Robin's wrist, "still an arrogant whelp, I see."

"And you still have the charm of a seasick Sith Lord," responded Robin quickly.

"Shut up!" hissed the trooper. He roughly shoved Robin through the airlock's small hatch.

"What? Are you saying Sith Lords, seasick or otherwise, aren't charming? I'm telling Vader you didn't think that was a compliment," Robin quipped.

"I said…" 323 punched Robin in the stomach, "…shut up."

Behind them, Batman was escorted out of the airlock hold by two other troopers. He glared down at Robin as they passed. "We're in enough trouble as it is," he reminded his sharp-witted protégé, "try _not_ to antagonize them."

Robin wheezed as 323 pulled him back to his feet and propelled him forwards down the _Jericho's_ gangplank. "But…it's _so_ easy."

"He's right you know," said Boba Fett stepping out of the shadows on the far side of the ship, "no need to make things more difficult for yourself." The bounty hunter holstered the blaster in his right hand before turning his attention to the swarm of Storm Troopers the Emperor had sent to assist him. "And you quacks in white better get a move on. I wanna' get out of here before my hair turns gray."

* * *

 **Imperial Palace, the Audience Chamber:**

The audience chamber of the Imperial Palace had once belonged to the high council of the Jedi Order. After Order 66 the rotunda had been restored, if not to its former glory, then into a much more functional shrine to the Dark Side. As befitted its current occupant, Darth Sidious. Ghosts of dead Jedi still haunted the room, unable to move on into the vortex of the Force, yet unable to do anything to prevent the changes Palpatine made around them. Their souls were forever entombed in the temple they had tried so hard to save. Such befitting irony really.

Emperor Palpatine himself sat enthroned in darkness, shrouded within the depths of hatred and deceit. Beside him stood Darth Vader, arms folded over his chest, staring listlessly through the mask as if by doing so he could pierce through the fabric of time and space.

"My Talon has returned to us," said the Emperor softly.

"I feel it also master," Vader agreed. He was actually thinking something along the lines, _thanks Captain Obvious_. But since no one called Palatine Captain Oblivious and lived, he refrained.

"He has changed. There is so much more raw power inside him. I can feel it." The Emperor leaned further back into his throne. He closed his eyes, drinking in the Force and the Dark Side around him. Such power. And it was all waiting to be broken and bridled. A please smile crossed his face; a smile which, under other circumstances on another face, one might mistake for daydreams of Pina Coladas on a tropical beach.

"I agree that Talon has grown stronger in the Force," Vader allowed, "although I fear his will and resolve may also have grown in strength. He may be harder to break than you anticipate."

Palpatine, in a good humor at the moment, opted not to fry Vader on the spot for that comment. Instead, he waved his hand dismissively. "That is your problem apprentice. You will break him, or I will break both of you. Am I understood?"

"Yes master."

"Good," said Palpatine offhandedly, "Talon is weak and hopeless right now. He's had a taste of freedom only to be brought back to us in chains. He will lose the spark of insurrection in time. Beings can only take so much before they crack. And then there is the matter of the Batman."

"What of the Batman?" Vader asked at the risk of getting a jolt of Force lightning to the face.

"You will unmask and execute the Batman over the Holonet, of course," answered Palpatine as if Vader was a childish fool for thinking anything else. "His death will serve two purposes. It will rid the Empire of self-proclaimed heroes and serve as a warning to any who would follow in his footsteps. And secondly, his death will help tip Talon over the edge and unleash the rage and Darkness he keeps locked away from us."

"Of course, my master."

* * *

 **Imperial Palace, Landing Pad:**

The Storm Troopers led Batman and Robin from the conning spire's landing pad down a low-ceilinged corridor. At the end of the passage, the procession filed down a claustrophobic staircase and out into the Imperial reception hall which was reserved for guests, misters of state, and apparently, important prisoners. Tall pillars lined the large rectangular room reaching though the high vaulted ceiling. At the back end stood a bronzium statue of Palpatine; the only semblance of décor in the otherwise spartan hall.

Dick Grayson felt his heart pounding and bile rose in his throat. Even with the Force inhibitor collar around his neck, he could feel the darkness surrounding him. He could feel Palpatine's slimy festering Force signature and Vader's all-consuming presence behind the doors leading to the audience chamber. They were making him wait. Letting him squirm. Giving his fear and hatred a chance to overcome him.

 _There you go again_ , a familiar voice whispered in his ear, _pretending I don't exist. Pretending I'm not a part of you_.

"Shut up," Dick hissed.

But the Dark only laughed. _Oh please! Stow this pointless heroism. You know what I can do for you. After all, you let me help you fight Deathstroke, remember?_

"And look how that turned out," Dick snapped. "I almost brought down the whole tower! …I almost killed _everyone_!"

 _I know_ , the Dark breathed, _magnificent isn't it? You and Darth Vader have a lot in common_.

"I'm nothing like him!" Dick declared.

 _Oh but you are…pain and fear make you what you are, just like him. And like him, you will fall to your rage. Like him, you will serve. You will bow._

Instead of answering the Dark, Dick tried again to banish it from his mind. But even as he pushed fear and hopelessness down into the pit of his heart and chained them there, his knees buckled. The Troopers on either side of him tightened their grip on his arms, forcing Dick to maintain his footing.

Then the doors to the audience chamber opened. A man, a general probably, walked through and assumed a commanding posture. "The Emperor will see you now."

* * *

 **Author's Note: And hello from Budapest. Hopefully this is all making sense so far. For those of you keeping track, the meeting between Talon and Darth Vader was originally going to be on Mustufar, however that has been retconned. Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think and stay tuned.**


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